Ease My Mind
by aceinit
Summary: Beka takes off on a secret mission leaving Dylan panicked. Can he find her before something tragic happens, or is he already too late? And what are the DragoKazov hiding? Possible DylanBeka.
1. Chapter One: Ease My Mind

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DISCLAIMER: I really wish I'd thought of these people myself, but since I didn't and I  
really like them, I'm going to borrow them for a while and hope I don't do too much  
damage.  
  
SPOILERS: Takes place post- "The Things We Cannot Change"  
  
FROM ME TO YOU: I got the idea for this fic after listening to a song called "Call Me,  
Call Me" from the Cowboy Bebop soundtrack--if you haven't heart his song, find a copy,  
it's amazing. The story was originally supposed to be a lot shorter, but Dylan and co.,  
seem to want to play for a while. I'm willing to let them.  
  
DEDICATION: For CooperDL, who knows nothing about "Andromeda" but persuaded  
me to write this story anyway. You seem to be making me write a lot of strange things  
lately. Make me keep doing it.  
  
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EASE MY MIND  
by aceinit   
  
  
  
CHAPTER ONE: EASE MY MIND  
  
  
  
There were times when Dylan Hunt could not believe the Andromeda had once held a  
crew of over 3,000. There were times when the height of the Commonwealth and Tarn  
Vedra seemed liked dreams. There were times that he could not remember what the  
known worlds had felt like without the threat of a Magog worldship bearing down on  
them, slowly rebuilding, slowly decimating everything that stood in its path. There were  
times when he could not believe that he and his skeleton crew were now the guardians of  
the universe.  
  
And he had never grown accustomed to the fact that three centuries had passed between  
where his life left off and where it had begun again.   
  
As he walked the familiar and familiarly abandoned corridor that led from his quarters to  
the command deck, Dylan found himself longing for the days of fully-crewed chaos.   
There was always something happening in those days, something that wasn't an end-of-  
the-known-universe scenario: stories from the crew about personal adventures, a quiet  
dinner with Sarah, teaching Rhade the finer points of basketball, beating him more often  
than not. Scenarios that didn't involve worldships the size of a solar system that were  
bent on the destruction of every known life force or little innocent purple girls who were  
no longer purple or innocent, or the Andromeda getting battered so badly in battle after  
battle that it was never at full power. He almost laughed. Who would have thought a  
time would come when the Nietzscheans weren't his biggest problem?   
  
He stopped at the sound of footsteps falling in the heavy rhythm of a dead run. One hand  
instinctively fell to his force lance, a reflex he doubted he would ever be able to break.   
He'd been on the edge ever since his latest brush with death, again at the mercy of a black  
hole, far too reminiscent of the first time, when he had lost three hundred years and an  
empire had crumbled around him. The images of Liandra, his (*Imaginary? Future?*)  
wife, and their (*Equally Imaginary? Future?*) son invaded his dreams nightly. He could  
not help but wonder if somehow, somehow just beyond his grasp, he had seen the perfect  
possible future Trance had warned him did not exist. Things were bad in her future. For  
one moment in his, everything had been perfect. He knew what was real, but that didn't  
stop him from doubting himself from time to time, from wondering if he was beginning  
to suffer that mental breakdown Liandra had insisted he'd suffered.  
  
Thankfully, he didn't have time to dwell. Harper flew around the corner, jumping  
backwards like a cat a fraction of a second before colliding with his commanding officer.  
  
"Boss!" Dylan could tell by the way the engineer's eyes widened that he was the last  
person Harper wanted to see. "Hey. How's it goin?" He bobbed up and down on the  
balls of his feet.  
  
"What?" Dylan asked immediately, not sure if he wanted the answer. Not with the way  
Harper's eyes were darting as he looked for an escape route.  
  
"What do you mean what? There's no what. No sir, no what at all."  
  
Dylan shook his head. "What are you doing that you're not supposed to be doing?"  
  
"I'm not doin' anything, boss." Nervously, Harper scratched the back of his head. "Well,  
at least not anything I'm not supposed to be doing. Sheesh, you High Guard guys always  
this paranoid?" He bounced faster.  
  
"Harper--"  
  
"Oh, come on, Boss. I swear, I'm not--"  
  
"Harper." This time, the accusatory voice belonged to Rommie. Her holograph  
materialized behind him as she spoke.  
  
"Oh, Rommie!" Harper spun as though he were under attack. "Uh, hi. How's it goin'?"  
  
Rommie was not amused. She laced her arms across her chest and scowled. "Why did  
you override my controls?"  
  
"What?" the two men asked simultaneously, Dylan with far more outrage.  
  
"You heard me." Rommie shifted her accusatory stare from Harper to her captain. She  
arched an eyebrow, a silent demand for Dylan to do something to rectify the situation.  
  
"Why?" he asked, dumbfounded. His thoughts shot immediately to Tyr, to the item  
being held in one of Andromeda's most highly safeguarded storage facilities. What in the  
name of the Empress could he be up to now?  
  
"Oh, come on, boss," Harper pleaded. "Beka made me promise--"  
  
"Beka?" Dylan interrupted a fraction of a second before Harper snapped his mouth shut,  
realizing he'd said too much.  
  
Harper sighed in defeat, shoving his hands into his pocket. "Yeah, Beka. She made me  
open the doors so she could take the Maru out on some secret mission."  
  
"What kind of secret mission?" Dylan demanded. He felt his heart momentarily seize,  
the way it always did when one of his crew did something reckless. But Beka? Dylan  
knew the former freighter still had salvaging on her mind, but he'd never imagined she'd  
just take off. No matter how secret the mission, she at least asked permission.  
  
"Don't ask me!" Harper's hands shot up defensively as Dylan started to do just that. "I  
don't know. I swear." He glanced over his shoulder, meeting Rommie's cold glare. "I  
swear," he repeated, still manic but more somber. "I was just, I was on my way to fix  
everything, you know, get it all back on line. All she wanted was a few minutes to slip  
out undetected. I'm fixing it." He shrugged helplessly at Dylan, whose face had  
hardened in disappointment.  
  
"Then fix it, Mr. Harper."  
  
Harper bolted before Rommie could berate him as well.   
  
"What does he think he's doing?" She inquired of Dylan. "Compromising my systems  
like that to let Beka slip the Maru out under my sensors? Dylan, do you realize the  
danger that could have put us in?"  
  
In spite of himself, Dylan smiled. Rommie had developed quite an attitude of late.   
"Believe me, I know. You have no idea what it's like to try to manage a crew when  
everybody's got some kind of hidden agenda."  
  
Rommie rolled her eyes. The half-scowl, half-pout returned. "Oh, believe me, I can  
imagine." With a blink, she dissipated. Dylan sighed and continued to the deck.  
  
"Tyr," he barked upon entering. The Nietzschean was monitoring for any incoming craft.   
He turned coolly, not the least bit surprised by Dylan's sudden fury.  
  
"Should I put a trace on the Maru, sir?" He asked, saying the last word with just a hint of  
insolent superiority.  
  
"You knew about this?" Did he always have to be the past person to find out what was  
going on on board his own ship?   
  
"I had my suspicions. Beka has been--" he shrugged, slightly, dismissively, "occupied of  
late."   
  
"Systems control restored." Rommie's voice echoed through the command deck. Her  
image appeared on the central monitor. "Searching for the Maru or any recent traces of  
slipstream activity." There was a pause as a flash of disappointment overcame her  
features. "Dylan, she slipstreamed. My tracers on the Maru show coordinates for the  
Centauri system."  
  
"Centauri?" Tyr almost scoffed. "Why would anyone want to go there? It's the biggest  
rubble heap in the galaxy since the Dragons finished with it."  
  
"Rubble heaps are known as profitable salvage sites," Dylan replied. "Rommie--"  
  
"Plotting course for Centauri," she concluded.  
  
Dylan assumed the controls of his ship. "Slipstream on my mark." He braced himself for  
the jolt. So did Tyr. "Mark."  
  
The Andromeda lurched forward into the turbulent nervous system of the galaxy. The  
slip route to Centauri had never been known for its ease, and he had to fight to hold onto  
the controls and navigate the twists and turns successfully. He breathed a sigh or relief  
that he hoped Tyr did not notice as the Andromeda returned to normal space.  
  
"Centauri system," Rommie diligently altered them. Dylan barely heard her.   
  
"Full screen!" he ordered. Rommie's face disappeared, replaced by a panoramic view of  
the opening cluster of the Centauri system.  
  
Or at least, what was left of the Centauri system.   
  
Dylan involuntarily relaxed his guard as his mind and body slipped into a state of shock.   
He was just as rapidly jolted out of that stunned sensation as chunks of debris began  
pounding the ship's exterior.   
  
"Tyr," he ordered, immediately returning his attention to the navigation and instigating  
every evasive maneuver he had ever learned. "Load missiles! Blast anything that looks  
like it can hurt us."  
  
Tyr was already following the order before it was given. "Loading and blasting." He  
fired the first salvo which obliterated rapidly approaching space rocks the size of  
asteroids. "Reloading."  
  
"What the--?" Dylan could not finish the question.  
  
"I'm detecting multiple explosions." Rommie, ever the embodiment of a warship, fed  
him the information with professional detachment. "Missile fire. There's also high levels  
of radiation and increased x and gamma waves. Dylan--"  
  
The holograph again appeared in front of him. Genuine worry and disbelief flooded her  
expression. "It was a nova."  
  
"The Maru--"  
  
Her gaze turned momentarily upwards as her sensors and processors quickly scanned the  
area. "I'm sorry, Dylan," she said. "I'm not getting a reading from the Maru or Beka." 


	2. Chapter Two: Night is Falling in My Hea...

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DISCLAIMER: Still not mine. Still wish they were.  
  
SPOILERS: Takes place post- "The Things We Cannot Change"  
  
P.S. Reloaded Chapter One and fixed the typos and annoying box things that are where the  
punctuation should be. Apologize profusely for my poor proofing skills, hope this one's   
better.   
  
**************************************************************************************  
  
  
  
  
CHAPTER TWO: NIGHT IS FALLING IN MY HEART  
  
  
  
It couldn't be . . .  
  
Dylan sighed deeply, exhaling what felt like every ounce of air in his lungs. He buried  
his face in his hands. He barely felt the bed he was sitting on. Whomever had said that  
familiar spaces brought comfort was highly mistaken. The familiarity of his bedroom  
was doing nothing to calm him or help him make sense of things he did not want to make  
sense of. Shaken to the core of his existence, he had removed himself from deck while  
he still had his dignity. Harper, who had bounded onto the deck a moment after Rommie  
had made the announcement, was in pieces. Even Tyr had looked shaken. And they had  
all looked to him to be the one to hold them together. Something he wasn't willing or  
able to do. He was going to fall to pieces and he felt he owed it to everyone to lose his  
sanity in private.  
  
It couldn't be . . .  
  
*What?* he asked himself, trying to get past the shock of it. *It couldn't be what?*  
  
It couldn't be so simple.  
  
"Dylan?" Rommie's holographic self. Ever-attentive, ever concerned.  
  
"Privacy mode," he ordered, his voice barely understandable through the hands covering  
his face.  
  
"Dylan," the avatar insisted. Even a machine (and how long had it been since he'd last  
though of her as a machine? He had to be out of his head.) could tell he did not need to  
be alone.  
  
"Andromeda, engage privacy mode immediately!" He snapped. Practically shouted.  
  
He finally looked up. Rommie's mouth hung slightly open, as though she were searching  
her immense, multi-language vocabulary for something that might offer some shred of  
help. Unable to find anything, she obeyed the order. Dylan did not miss her reluctance  
to do so. He would talk to her, eventually. He could always talk to her. They had no  
secrets from one another and eventually, once the shock wore off, he'd turn to her and  
demand to know how he'd been foolish enough to let something like this happen. Ever  
since Harper had given Andromeda a human body and, indeed, a personality, he'd  
developed more than a professional attachment to her.   
  
He shook his head. *If you're not careful, you're going to wind up like the Pax  
Magellanic.* The last thing the Commonwealth--what was left of the  
Commonwealth--needed was a repeat of what had happened to Andromeda's gilded sister  
ship. Besides, he told himself, it wasn't like that. He didn't love her. She didn't love him.   
But they had been through a three-hundred year time warp together and had averted  
galaxy-wide disasters on several occasions. She understood him, probably better than  
anyone would ever understand him. They'd been through it all, together.  
  
So of course Rommie would know how much Beka's sudden loss had shaken him. Of  
course she'd want to help. Beka and Rommie had grown into close comrades themselves.   
Of course Rommie's ever-strengthening emotional capabilities would be equally shaken.  
  
Again, Dylan shook his head. For the time being, he refused to accept that anyone else  
could be as numbed and shaken as he was.  
  
*A nova?* He refused to believe that, too. He could hear himself shouting that disbelief  
on deck. *Who the hell else in the galaxy had novas?* Rommie, still maintaining her  
professional detachment, had answered. Nietzscheans had novas. Specifically, the  
Dragons had novas, and had probably left them behind to detonate if anyone ventured too  
close to their territory. Abandoned or not, Nietzscheans never gave up what was theirs  
without a fight.   
  
Which meant that the explosion had overtaken Beka before she could see it coming. At  
least she'd--  
  
At least--  
  
She hadn't seen it coming. At least putting it that way didn't sound so final.  
  
Dylan could feel himself on the verge of tears, something else he wasn't quite ready to  
accept. If he cried it would mean he believed it. If he believed it, he would have to  
accept it. And Beka was tough. And smart. And she would have seen it coming and  
even if she hadn't, she would have found a way out before--  
  
Well, before the bomb had a chance to detonate.   
  
He'd survived a nova bomb not so long ago. Ironically enough, Beka had been the one to  
launch it. He and Rommie and Rev and Tyr and Harper had all survived the blast. And  
Trance, Trance had come back from the dead on more than one occasion. They'd all  
survived, that's what it all came down to. They'd all been through the worst imaginable  
circumstances, and quite a few Dylan had never thought could exist. And they'd  
survived. Now, it was Beka's turn. She'd survived. She had to have. She was out there.   
Somewhere.  
  
She had to be.  
  
Because Beka was tougher than Harper, who had survived the Magog infestation. She'd  
proven time and time again that she wasn't some helpless damsel in need of protection.   
She was an equal to himself or Tyr. There were times when she'd been better than both  
of them. And they were all still here, and it was so damned unfair that she wasn't.  
  
"Rommie?" he asked. He could feel the helplessness in his eyes as he looked around the  
spacious quarters. He'd just sent her away, and here he was, voice wavering as he asked  
her to return. Though he knew she would never think about saying so out loud, Dylan  
knew that there were times when she had to hate him.  
  
"Dylan?" the voice, this time, belonged not to the Rommie the holograph, but Rommie  
the android. He hadn't even heard the door to his quarters open, but there she was,  
slowly, cautiously stepping inside. She hung back, hands laced behind her, expression  
empty save for a brightness in her wide eyes that told him she'd do whatever he needed.  
  
"Anything?" he asked. His last order before leaving the deck as calmly as he could was  
for Andromeda to begin searching as far as her sensors would reach for any craft  
remotely similar in size or structure to the Maru.  
  
Rommie shook her head, overcome with a genuine sadness. She finally came into the  
room, her steps still slow, as though she expected him to order her out again. Finally, and  
only after he ran a hand along the bedspread, she sat down on the bed beside him. She  
sighed and shrugged her shoulders, lacing her fingers nervously in her lap. "Dylan,  
there's no trace of life in this system. No trace of a working craft, not even a blip from a  
machine." She turned her head to look at him. "There's nothing here." She spoke the  
words almost as an apology. "I've checked."  
  
His mouth moved as he struggled to make the words come. He was not going to cry. He  
was not going to fathom the possibility. "Then check again."  
  
"I have. The nova radiation wiped out any chances of picking up any activity before the  
blast. If Beka did manage to slipstream--"  
  
"Which she did--" he insisted, though he wasn't sure if he believed himself.  
  
Rommie placed a hand lightly over his. "Even if she did, there's no way to know."  
  
"So we look for her," he said, the words sounding crazy even in his own mind.  
  
"It's a big universe, Dylan."  
  
"I know." He shook his head, chewed on his lower lip. "I know. Who knows where to  
start, right?" Unable to stand the helplessness of sitting around doing nothing, he stood  
and began pacing. "I know. What am I supposed to do?"  
  
Rommie regarded him, calm and composed. At least one of us is, he thought.  
  
"I suggest we go back to our original position and wait."  
  
"Wait?" he repeated. That was the word he least wanted to hear. No, the second worst  
word he could ever hear. The other one, he was not going to think about. Not until he  
had proof.  
  
"If Beka's--" Rommie hesitated, searching for the right word. She didn't want to say it,  
either. "If she's looking for us, she'll be looking where we were. We can track her,  
Dylan, but she can't track us. We go back. It's the only thing we can do."  
  
"Then set a course," Dylan said. Waiting. Waiting? How could he ever wait? He was a  
man of action, not someone who sat around and waited for a situation to sort itself out.   
The Andromeda had never left a crew member behind, not in three hundred years had he  
ever abandoned one of his own. By leaving Centauri, he was abandoning Beka and the  
Maru to whatever hand fate had dealt them.   
  
He wanted to stay. To find out what had happened and why and what on earth had  
thrown Beka into the middle of all of it? The Dragons had razed Centauri and moved on.   
Fair enough, for now. But why had they left traps behind, and why a trap as powerful as  
a Nova? It didn't make sense. Nothing about anything made sense.  
  
Absently, Romime's free hand played with a strand of her short hair. The simple gesture  
almost made Dylan smile. At Beka's prodding, Rommie had started using nanobots to  
alter her hair color. It became bluer and bluer by the day. Though Dylan had yet to get  
used to the change, he had a feeling he would like it.  
  
"She could very well have transited back to Vestus," Rommie said. "She's probably  
screaming at the Maru because she can't figure out where we took off to."  
  
"I said set a course," Dylan rmeinded, far more harshly than intended. "And leave me  
alone. All of you."  
  
"Dylan--"  
  
"I'll be fine," he said, not sure if he believed that, either.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"I'll be fine," he repeated. "I'll be back on deck in a moment."  
  
"Dylan--" she tried again.  
  
He sighed. He appreciated her effort, he really did, but right now it was the last thing he  
wanted. He wanted an explanation. Or someone who could give him one.  
  
"Where are you going?" Rommie sprung from the bed as Dylan made an abrupt turn  
and practically bolted from his quarters.  
  
"To talk to Trance!" he shouted back. Trance had seen the future. Hell, she'd come from  
the future. She'd come from the future to make things right. She'd begun altering the  
future when she'd removed the Magog larvae from Harper. Since then, who knew what  
else she had done? When his thoughts drifted to Liandra, they inevitably drifted to  
Trance as well, as though there was a connection. Maybe there was, maybe there wasn't.   
Right now none of that was important.  
  
All he wanted to know was how in the hell sacrificing Beka was supposed to make the  
world a better place in the long run. 


	3. Chapter Three: Talking to the Universe

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Reloaded Chapters One and Two. Fixed typos and annoying box things that are where   
the punctuation should be. Apologize profusely. Hope this one's better.   
  
Also, I just figured out I'm as in the dark as you are on how this story is going to end,  
or what's going to happen from here on out. It should make for an interesting ride.  
  
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CHAPTER THREE: TALKING TO THE UNIVERSE  
  
  
  
  
  
"How in the hell does killing Beka help this perfect possible future you keep talking about?"  
  
A lot about Trance had changed, so much that there were times when Dylan didn't know who  
he was really dealing with--not that he'd ever really known to begin with. But despite all that  
was different about her, her love for nurturing plants had remained. Dylan had no problem  
finding her amid the gardens she was cultivating. She had been in the process of watering  
some ferns taken from Earth when Dylan had stormed in and demanded an explanation for  
Beka's death. He'd actually said it, and the moment those furious words left his lips, he felt  
himself slip further into the hurt, numbness and fury.  
  
Trance stared at him, her expression blank, for a long time after he shouted the question at  
her. "What are you talking about?" She asked at last.  
  
Dylan wanted to shout at her some more, but all the fight had left him when he'd been forced  
to face the cold, hard facts of reality out loud. As he watched the worry flood Trance's pallid  
features, he realized that she was every bit as in the dark as he was. The water she was  
pouring went unchecked and began to overflow from the pot.  
  
"Dylan?" Her voice was shaking with fear. "Did something happen to Beka?"  
  
"You--" He was back to being at a loss for words. He shook his head, tried again. "You mean  
you don't--"  
  
"Dylan, what happened?"  
  
He jumped back as she reached out to touch him and nearly stumbled over his own footing.   
He wanted to trust her, to believe that the worry he was seeing and the confusion he was  
hearing were real. He didn't know what was real with Trance anymore, wasn't sure he ever  
had.  
  
"Sit down," she said, indicating a bench-like structure nestled amid a sea of greenery. "You  
look a little shaky. What happened to Beka?" she asked again as he sat.  
  
Unable to come up with a place to start, he pointed at the trail of water pouring onto the floor.  
  
"Oh!" Trance exclaimed, startled by her mistake. So startled that she dropped the rest of the  
container. The water hit the floor and splattered in all directions, some of the drops making it  
as far as the toes of Dylan's boots.  
  
"Sorry!" She began searching frantically for something to clean up the mess.  
  
"Trance!" The urgency in his voice stopped her. She turned back to him. "Leave it for a  
minute, okay? Listen, um," he didn't know how to begin to tell her. "Beka--she didn't say  
anything to you about going anywhere?"  
  
Trance shook her head, a gesture so simple in its innocence that for an instant she was the  
blonde-haired, purple-skinned creature with a tail he'd first known. "I haven't seen very much  
of her lately. Actually, I was going to track her down as soon as I finished here and ask her  
what's up. Why? What was all that about Beka getting killed?"  
  
Her bright, wide eyes were brighter and wider than usual. She knew something was wrong.   
He doubted he was doing a good job of conveying an image of normalcy.   
  
"Dylan, what happened to Beka?"  
  
"She took the Maru," he made himself say. "She, uh, she had Harper blindside Rommie's  
systems so she could sneak out undetected. He's not sure where she went, but it's um, we  
think maybe it was some kind of salvage run."  
  
"Must have been something important if she didn't want you to know about it," Trance said  
quietly.  
  
Dylan nodded his agreement. "She slipstreamed to Centauri, which is a pretty big Dragon  
junkyard. After that, I don't really know what happened."  
  
Trance's mouth had fallen slightly open. She closed it long enough to swallow hard. "What  
do you *think* happened?"  
  
Dylan drew a sharp breath and wiped his eyes to make sure he wasn't crying without is  
knowledge. He wasn't. Not yet. "The Dragons left a nova behind. It detonated. Beka--" He  
closed his eyes, practically seared them together. "The whole Centauri system was destroyed.   
Rommie can't find any trace of her or the Maru."  
  
"Then she got away," Trance said, as though that was that and there was nothing more worth  
saying. She didn't believe it, though. Dylan could tell she was every bit as shaken as he was.   
Her disbelief quickly faded to outrage.  
  
"You think I had something to do with it?" She demanded.  
  
Dylan shook his head. He didn't. Not now.  
  
"You came in here yelling at me like I knew something you didn't. Like I had something to  
do with it! Dylan, I would never--"  
  
"I know," he tried to interrupt.  
  
"Apparently you don't!" Trance shouted down at him. "Beka's my friend. I would never do  
anything to hurt her."  
  
"Trance--"  
  
"Because I came from the future, this is my fault?" Tears that sparkled like diamonds fell  
from her eyes. It was a sight Dylan did not know what to do with, one that made him want to  
abandon the fragile control he held over his own emotions. He could imagine the old Trance  
crying, but he could not reconcile the tears with the older, paler, more hardened, more  
*war-like* creature before him  
  
"I didn't mean--"  
  
"Shut up and listen to me!" The strength and authority behind the order ensured that Dylan  
could do nothing but. "Did Beka ever tell you what happened after we figured out Harper's  
tesserac was working? When things were going a little crazy?"  
  
"You were attacked by Kalderans," he answered, annoyed. This was nothing new, and  
completely irrelevant.  
  
"We were," Trance agreed, "and in the middle of it all, Beka and I ran into our future selves."  
  
"So?" Grateful as he was that they were concentrating on Beka the way he was determined to  
think of her--alive and well and fighting her way out of a difficult situation--he couldn't  
understand why Trance was so determined to persist with this particular story. The trouble  
the tesserac caused was what had started this whole mess to begin with.  
  
"So it was ourselves from a long way into the future. A long way. And if Beka and I saw our  
future selves, then that means Beka's going to have to be alive to become her future self."  
  
Dylan refused to believe that as well, comforting as the hope was. "But what if you changed  
that when you, when you did whatever you did? What if helping Harper and sacrificing Huhn  
was enough to throw the future off balance enough to put us where we are now? How do you  
know that anything you're doing is helping?"  
  
"I don't," Trance said tightly, anger roused by his last question. "All I know is that the future I  
came from wasn't nice, and that anything that happens as a result of my trying to change that  
future is better than us ever winding up there."  
  
"Even losing Beka?" He asked the question almost as an insult.  
  
Trance grew somber, lowered her eyes in consideration. "Yes," she said at last. "Even losing  
Beka."  
  
Dylan rose from the bench with such fury that he sent one of the plants crashing to the floor.   
That was all he needed to hear. Of course she'd had something to do with it. Of course he'd  
never get it out of her. He was so livid that he'd settle for putting a hole through a wall.  
  
"But you don't know that that's happened yet, do you?" Trance asked, the question stopping  
him before he could storm out. "And if the past that you and Tyr saw on the Andromeda  
during the tesseracs really happened, then we have to believe that the future Beka and I saw  
on the Maru happens as well. Which means Beka's still alive somewhere. You have to  
believe that."  
  
Dylan wasn't sure what he believed, not anymore. He'd believed that Beka would always be  
there for him. She'd even agreed to lead his mission to unite the Commonwealth should  
anything ever happen to him. He'd gotten so used to her presence and to her survival ability  
that he had come to take her presence for granted. *Never again,* he vowed. He'd never take  
any of them for granted again. Beka least of all. He'd always known he was growing attached  
to her. What he had never realized was how strong that attraction had grown. He--  
  
Was it possible?  
  
"You love her," Trance said. Those words, spoken out loud. nearly startled him out of his  
skin. He could do nothing but stare at her stupidly.  
  
Trance shrugged, offered a slight but quirky smile. "We've all been through a lot together, so  
it's only natural that you should."  
  
Dylan exhaled slowly, quietly, gratefully. She hadn't meant the words in the way that he was  
quickly growing to think they should be meant. He loved Beka. The thought made no sense  
in his mind but, at the same time, ages had passed since something had felt--and sounded--so  
right. Elsbeth had been a fling, a much needed sexual release. Molly, the tour pilot he had  
kidnapped and enjoyed a brief romance with, was the closest he'd allowed himself to grow to  
anyone since Sarah. He'd thought they might enjoy a longer affair, but his travels and her  
military training had left them in communication less and less often.  
  
But Beka?  
  
Beka was his colleague, his comrade-in-arms. She'd blown him up with a nova. He'd  
pretended not to undermine her authority every time they were on the Maru. They'd been  
through some bad times together. And some inexplicably strange times. And some  
incredibly good times. Conversation had always easy, fast and witty, but he would have to be  
blind, deaf and stupid not to notice the increasing amounts of flirtation and  
double-entendrees. They'd been growing a lot closer lately.   
  
But love?  
  
He never would have thought it possible. If she was still here, and still fine, he never would  
have entertained the idea. Or, if he had, he would have convinced himself that he *was*  
losing his mind.  
  
She was gone. Possibly forever. That possible, permanent loss had left Dylan with a  
sensation he had not felt since he lost Sarah. He had lost crew, friends, allies, comrades and  
indeed, even love. While the possible and all-too-probable loss of Beka fit easily into the first  
four categories, it fit most easily, and naturally, into the last. He loved her.  
  
He was not going to accept the fact that he'd lost her without having the chance to tell her so.   
Not until he saw her lifeless body with his own eyes.  
  
He left Trance without a good-bye or another word, running like a madman back toward the  
command deck. Rommie's bodiless voice warned all aboard to brace for slipstream.  
  
"Cancel that order!"   
  
"Sir?" Rommie's voice echoed through the corridor.  
  
"Where's the location of the nearest system?" Dylan demanded, pushing his pace to the point  
of losing his coordination.  
  
The reply came almost without pause. "Centauri has a sister system, Sarentia. It's a short slip  
from our present location."  
  
"Set a course!"  
  
"Dylan, the place is overrun with Dragons. We'll be attacked the moment we exit the  
slipstream."  
  
"Then tell Tyr to prepare for offensive actions!"  
  
"Dylan" Rommie insisted, "I feel I should remind you that we've already given the Dragons  
more than enough reasons to hate us. Not to mention I get battered every time I go up against  
them. I enjoy putting them in their place as much as you do, but I'm not in any shape to go  
head-to-head with their fleet."  
  
"That's why I have Tyr manning the weapons. He won't let anything get close enough to hurt  
you."  
  
He could almost hear the corridor scoff. "What's in Sarentia that's so important? I thought we  
were looking for Beka."  
  
"We are!" Dylan called back. The moment Beka sensed trouble, she would have  
slipstreamed out of Centauri and bailed to the nearest system. Beka was like him, she never  
accepted defeat. There was no doubt in his body that she was lying low in Sarentia until she  
cold formulate a plan to get her hands on whatever she'd been after in the first place. She'd be  
okay, he'd find her, and he'd tell her exactly how he really felt.  
  
With any luck, he'd find that perfect possible future after all.  
  
  
______________________________________________________________________  
Up next: Andromeda takes on the Drago-Kazov pride. 


	4. Chapter Four: The Wasteland

**************************************************************************************  
  
DISCLAIMER: Really, really wishing they were mine (see blow).  
  
SPOILERS: Takes place post- "The Things We Cannot Change", probably pre- "Belly of the Beast"  
  
IMPORTANT!!!:   
"Belly of the Beast" was so close to where I was going with this story that I'm sitting here hoping I can  
change the direction so that it doesn't sound like I'm copying! This story has already spiraled completely  
out of my control. I think it's going to spiral farther now that I've seen this episode. Enjoy the ride. I  
know I will.  
  
**************************************************************************************  
  
  
CHAPTER FOUR: THE WASTELAND  
  
  
  
Rommie was right about the Dragons. Their fighters opened full-fire the moment the Andromeda exited  
the slipstream into the Sarentia system. The force of that much rapid fire that quickly rocked the ship  
violently enough for Dylan to lose his footing mid-stride. He was thrown against the wall hard enough to  
leave him disoriented and past all hope of recovering gracefully. The doors to the command deck chose  
that moment to slide open, and Dylan rolled unceremoniously onto it.  
  
"Dylan!" Rommie was hovering over him before he could begin to pick himself up. As he tried to do just  
that, she held him down with a ease. "Hold still," she ordered. Probably the first time she'd ever given  
him an order. It was supposed to be the other way around.  
  
"I'm fine." The words didn't come out sounding quite right.  
  
"You're bleeding," Rommie insisted, keeping him firmly rooted in place. "You may have a concussion.   
Harper, tell Trance to come check him out." One of her hands pressed against his forehead. Dylan  
pushed it away and pretended not to notice his blood on her fingers.   
  
"I'm fine," he said again, a bit more clearly.  
  
"Pathetic human frailty," he heard good old reliable Tyr say.  
  
"We can't all be Ubers," Dylan responded, wishing the throbbing in his head would go away. Tyr  
responded to the derogatory name by arming Andromeda's missiles and taking aim at an approaching  
squad of Drago-Kazov.  
  
"Should I still get Trance?" Harper asked, watching Dylan with a skeptical expression as Rommie finally  
allowed him to pick himself up. All thoughts of Trance were forgotten as the ship was jolted by a second  
battery from the Dragons. Without a word but wearing an expression of disgust and hatred that spoke  
volumes, Tyr returned fire with a barrage of close-range missiles and proximity mines. On-screen, several  
of the Nietzscheans fighters exploded. The disgust and hatred was still visible on Tyr's face as he prepared  
for another assault, but the emotions were now blended with smug superiority.  
  
"We shouldn't be here," Harper was saying to himself as he watched the chaos unfolding on the screens.   
"We really, really shouldn't be here. We're not ready to take this kind of damage."   
  
It took Dylan a moment to realize that Harper was the one at the controls, trying desperately and largely  
unsuccessfully to navigate Andromeda through the ceaseless Nietzscheans fire. Dylan staggered more  
than ran to relieve him of command.  
  
"You sure you're okay?" Harper willingly and gratefully relinquished the controls despite the inquiry.   
Dylan slid into the familiarity of command and forced the pain in his head away. His eyes saw nothing  
but the real-time positions of the fighters and their fire that Rommie was feeding him on the monitors. As  
he curled his fingers around the ship's navigation controls, they took on the sensation of an extension of  
his own body. During times like these, staring danger and death in the eye and having the nerve to laugh  
in their faces, he felt more like he was a part of the Andromeda than a separate, controlling entity.   
  
The ship responded with speed and grace to the slightest adjustments to her course, maneuvering and  
dodging almost before he could give direction. Vaguely, he remembered laughing during one of his first  
days of training, when an old and rather senile-looking retired pilot had told them a captain develops a  
special, almost psychic bond with his vessel. When he'd heard those words, he'd wanted to laugh so badly  
he could barely stand it. It was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard in his life. Rhade had thought so  
as well. He hadn't hid his laughter and had promptly stormed out, vowing to come back when it wasn't  
such a waste of his time.  
  
Now, though, Dylan believed every word. He always did when survival depended on he and Andromeda  
working in perfect unison. He had no doubt that Beka felt the same connection to the well-abused and  
ever-reliable Maru, which he had never stopped scanning for as he guided Andromeda through the swarm  
of attacking Nietzscheans.  
  
"Sheesh, there's a million of 'em," Harper declared, completely unnecessarily. He moved to a second  
battle-station and proceeded to help Tyr blast a path through the attack. Though he wore none of the  
Kodiak's outward evil delight at decimating their opponents, Dylan knew that Harper, usually a  
humanitarian, harbored no love for the Drago-Kazov.  
  
"Any sign of the Maru?" Dylan demanded, throwing the ship into a smooth but sharply-banked turn to  
avoid a fighter that had slipped past Tyr's constant fire. Anasazi swore and banged a fist on the controls  
hard enough to send a few sparks flying. The crew braced for the close-range assault that would have to  
follow, but the fighter buzzed overhead without firing a shot.  
  
"What the--"  
  
"Nothing on the Maru," Rommie interrupted her captain. Dylan swore. They'd just brought on the wrath  
of the Drago-Kazov fleet--again--and apparently all for nothing. His instincts had been wrong. Beka  
wasn't here. The constant freighter traffic to and from the mines would have been the perfect place for her  
to lose herself and the Maru. What was one more cargo ship in a sea of them? He'd been certain Beka  
would blend in with the other transport ships long enough to formulate a new plan of action.   
  
But she wasn't here.  
  
She was dead, blown to so many pieces by a nova that there was no way Rommie could get a reading on  
her or her ship.   
  
"Are you sure?" He'd questioned Rommie's abilities so little in the past that he wasn't sure if he'd ever  
done it before.  
  
Rommie turned to look at him over her shoulder. He got the distinct impression that, despite the fact that  
they were under heavy, debilitating fire, she wanted to say something very sarcastic in response.   
  
"Positive, Captain," she said instead, the turned her attention back to watching Tyr blow up the Dragon  
ships.  
  
When the next Nietzschean salvo hit the ship at a range that was quickly becoming too close, Rommie  
winced and tensed to the point of looking physically ill. Dylan shook his head. He couldn't do this to her.   
Not after he'd done it so many times before. For Beka, he'd do anything. But he would not sacrifice  
Andromeda for a lost cause.  
  
"Tyr!"  
  
"We may be bigger than they are," He responded, launching another offensive. "And stronger." Another.   
"And faster." Another. "But they have outnumbered by the hundreds. If your ship says there's no reason  
for us to be here, I suggest we get the hell out!"  
  
No reason meant no Beka. As badly as he wanted to stay and conduct a more thorough search, he gave the  
command for Tyr to clear a space large enough to open a slipstream portal. The Andromeda was still  
recovering from too many past wounds. They were in the middle of a Dragon stronghold and hopelessly  
outnumbered.  
  
The rogue Nietzschean fighter again sped overhead before cutting a sharp corner around Andromeda's  
massive exterior.  
  
"Arrogant little!" Harper exclaimed. "Rommie, would the planetary warfare bots be overkill?"  
  
"I'll take care of it," Tyr abandoned his systematic destruction of the approaching Drago-Kazov crafts to  
zero in an exact lock on the rogue.  
  
"No time!" Dylan barked. "Brace for slipstream!" If they didn't open a portal now, they'd be shooting  
Dragons into next year, provided they survived that long. The glowing white portal reached out and  
grabbed the Andromeda, propelling it through the winding system of intertwining galaxies. The severely  
damaged ship could not navigate the slipstream with her usual ease. The crew, Dylan included, held on  
for the sake of life and limb as the ship slammed repeatedly into the nerve-like tentacles of the slipstream.   
He feared the Andromeda would begin to break apart.  
  
He had never been more grateful for a return to normal space in his life. Even Tyr took a moment to  
collect himself and breathe a sigh of relief as the Andromeda slowed to cruising speed on the outskirts of  
the Vestia galaxy.  
  
"That was harsh," Harper muttered, wincing as he massaged his shoulder. "Anybody else here as banged  
up as I am?"  
  
"I don't believe it!" Rommie exclaimed. "Dylan, that Nietzschean fighter followed us!" The final words  
were not spoken as a warning, but as a statement of complete disbelief.  
  
"One Dragon fighter can easily be taken care of." Tyr managed to scoff and smile at the same time.   
"Preparing to fire."  
  
"Dylan," Rommie could not hide her surprise. "It's hailing us!"  
  
"You have got to be kidding me!" Harper shouted at the screen. "They think we're gonna be all chatty  
now that they've tried to kill us? I don't think so!"  
  
Tyr scoffed. "We'll give it a proper response."  
  
"On screen!" Dylan ordered before Tyr could open fire.  
  
"What is it with the having to chit-chat with the enemy?" Harper demanded. "I mean, with some  
unknown bunch of whatevers I could understand it, but these are the *Dragons.* They hate us, we know  
that. Can't we just for once blast first and ask questions later?"  
  
"On screen," Dylan repeated.  
  
Rommie obeyed. The image of their Nietzschean adversary appeared on the central monitor.  
  
"I don't believe it," Tyr breathed in utter astonishment. Harper echoed his sentiments by jumping up and  
down and pumping a fist in the air as he shouted "All right!"   
  
Dylan wanted to do a lot of the same, but he could only stare at the pilot and hope his eyes were not  
deceiving him. The choppy blonde hair and penetrating blue eyes. That unique blend of cockiness and  
adventure in the smile that told him she knew she'd had them all fooled and worried out of their minds. It  
couldn't be.  
  
"It's about time you boys showed up," Beka Valentine said in her flirtatious tough-girl voice. "Now tell  
Tyr to hold his fire long enough for me to dock. Or are you gonna leave me hanging out here until the  
worldship catches up to us?"  
  
"You heard the lady," Dylan said, barely able to speak past the smile that had overtaken his face.   
"Andromeda, prepare to dock incoming Nietzschean fighter!"  
  
"Aye, aye, captain!" Even the normally stoic holograph had an extra lilt in her voice. Little wonder why.   
  
Dylan could barely keep himself from following Harper's lead. He hadn't seriously, stupidly, joyously  
celebrated anything in the better part of three centuries. They'd been so busy rebuilding, fighting or just  
trying to stay alive that a full-blown celebration was out of the question, regardless of circumstance. If  
these weren't circumstances, Dylan didn't know what else qualified. Their searching had paid off. They  
were one step closer to Trance's perfect possible future.  
  
Beka Valentine was back.  
  
_________________________  
Not over. Not by a long shot. 


	5. Capter Five: Together Again

EASE MY MIND  
CHAPTER FIVE: TOGETHER AGAIN  
  
  
  
  
"Rommie," Dylan heard himself say once Beka's image had disappeared from the screen. Even after her  
face was gone, he stared at the vast and seemingly vacant system that spread before them.  
  
"Captain?" he was asked, simultaneously, by the hologram and the android.  
  
The question took a moment for him to formulate. He wasn't sure of how to ask it, or if it was a valid  
question, or if it was a question at all. "You said you weren't picking up any signs of the Maru."  
  
"Affirmative," Rommie agreed, lacing her hands behind her back as she came to stand by his side. She  
wore the strangest half-smile, enough to tell Dylan the joke was on him. He only wished he knew the  
punchline.  
  
"Then what in the hell was that?" He gestured to the monitor Beka's image had been on only moments  
ago.  
  
"According to my sensors and your own perception, it was Beka Valentine piloting a hijacked Nietzschean  
alpha-class fighter."  
  
"But you said there was no sign of her."  
  
The half-smile widened as she finally looked at him. Tyr had evidentially been giving her lessons in  
looking smug. If so, she was learning well. "I said I wasn't detecting any traces of the Maru in Sarentian  
system. There were none."  
  
"Then what the hell was that?" He repeated, feeling incredibly helpless again, for entirely different  
reasons than before.  
  
Gently, Rommie nudged him with her side. "You never asked about Beka."  
  
"I--"  
  
"Considering the fact that we were under heavy incoming fire, I decided it best not to bombard you with  
unsolicited information."  
  
Dylan almost laughed. "Beka being alive was useless information?"  
  
Feigning innocence and naiveté, she looked up and away. Dylan wanted to say something, some scathing  
words of chastisement, but he could only continue to laugh. "You really are getting to be too much."  
  
"Beka's docked," Rommie said, pretending not to hear his comment. "She's disembarking the craft and  
heading this way." She turned back to him. "I'm detecting a rise in heart rate, blood pressure, and  
adrenaline. She's not happy to see us."  
  
"Aw, come on," Harper said from his battle station. "You've already fooled us once, Rommie. Ha ha,  
very funny and all by the way. But you don't honestly expect us to believe Beka's not happy we saved her  
butt?"  
  
Though Dylan said nothing, he silently agreed with Harper. They'd saved her after she'd survived a nova  
detonation and somehow found her way onto a Dragon fighter. Of course she was happy to see them.  
  
He kept believing that until Beka stormed onto the Command Deck, all but oblivious to the welcome party  
that awaited her. Dylan started to rush forward to greet her, and probably to blurt out something stupid to  
the affect that he was in love with her, but checked himself when he realized that fury was practically  
radiating from her. Harper, however, was so grateful to see her that he failed to notice the jesting Beka  
from the enemy fighter was no longer with them.  
  
"Boss!" He bounded towards her, throwing his arms wide to catch her in a suffocating hug.  
  
"Knock it off." Though she spoke with only the mildest of annoyance, Beka found him as appealing as  
she would a starving Magog. She pushed him off of her before he had a chance to latch on, leaving him  
standing stunned in her wake.  
  
"Welcome back," Rommie said. "We were worried about you."  
  
"Worry?" Beka scoffed. "There wouldn't be anything to worry about if Captain Terrific hadn't decided to  
give chase." She turned, shooting Harper an icy stare. "I told you not to say anything."  
  
"I didn't!" Harper insisted. He sighed heavily. "Well, not without--"  
  
Beka didn't wait for the rest of the response, turning her fury on Dylan. "What do you think you were  
doing?"  
  
"What happened to glad to see us?" he responded, at a loss for anything else to say. The conversation was  
ricocheting with such speed that he could barely keep up with what was being said. Judging from her  
appearance, she should have been glad to see them. He hadn't noticed before--he'd been far too elated to  
see her alive to notice much or anything--but Beka was a mess. And lucky to be standing. Dried blood  
trailed from her hairline around her left eye and halfway down her cheek. Her shirt was ripped, another  
clotted cut across her shoulder visible. Her black pants were in shreds, practically falling off her.  
  
"How can I be glad to see you when you ruined everything? Andromeda, reverse course. We're going  
back to Sarentia."  
  
"Cancel that," Dylan said immediately. He could tolerate a lot of things, but his second-in-command  
trying to go over his head without provocation or explanation was not one of them. "Beka, what is going  
on?"  
  
"What is going on?" She repeated, rage mounting, stepping up and into his face. "*What is going on?*"   
She shoved him out of the way, her fingers running on auto-pilot over the Andromeda's controls. "What is  
going on is because of you, the Drago-Kazov have my ship. Andromeda, Sarentia!"  
  
"Disregard that order and any other orders from Captain Valentine until I authorize you to follow them.   
Beka--"  
  
"Stop with the Beka!" She slammed her open palms on the navigation system when the ship failed to  
respond to her commands. "Dylan, the Nietzschean have the Maru. They're going to dismantle it. I  
*want* my ship back!" She grabbed his sleeve and pushed him back to the controls. "Tell Rommie we're  
going after the Maru."  
  
Between the dried blood, the sweat, the ripped clothing, the half-crazed sea of emotions swirling in her  
eyes, and the tension rippling through her body, Dylan could not find an ounce of sanity in her. He had no  
idea how she'd ever been removed from the Maru's controls or hijacked a Dragon fighter, but he also knew  
that in the shape she was in, an explanation would not be forthcoming. "I am not doing anything until you  
calm down enough to tell me what's going on."  
  
One side of his face exploded with pain before falling into complete numbness. As he shook his head to  
clear his vision, he realized Beka had just delivered one hell of a backhand. In front of the entire crew, he  
realized, as his still-fuzzy vision drifted around the deck while he waited for his focus to return. The  
clarity came back as his eyes passed Tyr. Dylan tried not to notice the amusement in his expression.  
  
"All right, that is *enough*!" He caught her wrist as she balled her fingers for a legitimate swing. Beka  
fought against him with all of her substantial strength. Dylan truly struggled to remain firmly planted in  
place without relinquishing his grip on her. If she slipped loose, she would let him have it.  
  
"The Maru is my home Dylan!" She shouted at him. "It's my ship and the Dragons have it! They're going  
to break my ship up and sell it for scrap! I am not going to let that happen, so tell Andromeda to go back  
to Sarentia!"  
  
Her fight exhausted, the adrenaline flushed from her system, Beka ceased her struggle altogether. Her  
breathing fell in hard, labored breaths as she stared up at him with utter helplessness, every part of her  
bloodied face a plea for him to stop being difficult and help her. Beaten, bleeding, she'd been through  
who knew what in the time since the nova's detonation. He'd thought himself a wreck for passing most of  
his day in a state of shock. Beka had been the one who had spent all this time surviving, enduring first a  
nova then the Drago-Kazov. He'd reached his breaking point when he'd thought she was dead. He  
realized now that she'd reached hers as well.  
  
"Why don't we talk about this somewhere else?" he said, feeling suffocated beneath the stares of his small  
crew.  
  
"Dylan--" Barely a breath. Barely a plea.  
  
"I can't do anything until you tell me what's going on."  
  
Unable to do as much as shake her head, Beka's wavering eyes were all the reply he needed. The bright  
blue irises were brimming with moisture, to the point of overflowing. Beka, his tough girl, calm and in  
charge in the midst of every bad situation, was on the verge of losing her composure. He must have  
looked much the same when he'd retreated to his quarters following the nova's detonation.  
  
"I've--I've," she stammered when he did not answer fast enough, "I've already told you what happened.   
"The Dragons took the Maru. They're going to dismantle it. We have to get it back."  
  
"We will." He took her gently by the shoulders. "But we need a plan first. We can't go charging in blindly  
against an entire Drago-Kazov fleet." He sighed. "Take a walk with me. Tell me what  
happened--*everything* that happened. Then we'll come up with a plan--*together*--to get the Maru  
back."  
  
Beka pulled free of his grasp and ran her hands through her short hair in frustration. "I don't have time for  
a scenic tour of the Andromeda's finer points. Nietzscheans, Dylan, Maru, have. Get back. Now."  
  
"We will," he repeated. "But first, I need information. He gestured to the doors, which Rommie took the  
cue to open. "Tell me what's going on. Walk with me." 


	6. Chapter Six: Relic

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
DEDICATION: This chapter is for Stephanie and Mary, who took time to e-mail me and help me sort this   
story out, and for giving me a much-needed kick to get over this writer's block. Thanks so much to both   
of you. Keep in touch.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
  
EASE MY MIND  
CHAPTER SIX: RELIC  
  
  
  
Beka didn't want to go anywhere, Dylan realized. She stalked the corridors several paces ahead of him,  
footsteps falling heard and fast. What she wanted was to stay on the Command Deck and fire offensives at  
an enemy squadron that could easily decimate the battle-damaged and desperately understocked in the  
weapons department Andromeda. Their own improbability for survival seemed to mean nothing to her.   
All she cared about was the Maru. Dylan could understand that concern, he'd be pretty damned worried  
himself if the Andromeda ever fell into the wrong hands. He'd certainly do everything in his power to get  
his ship back, but he would not charge blindly, deafly and stupidly into a situation that had them vastly  
outnumbered and outgunned. He'd never thought Beka would, either. She could be rash and incredibly  
hot-headed at times, but the one thing she had never been was stupid.  
  
"Beka!" He called after her, jogging to catch up. Hearing his footsteps increase in speed only made her  
quicken her own pace. Dylan slowed back down to a frantic walk, still trailing her. "Beka, wait!"  
  
"You said walk!" she shouted back, not even bothering to turn her head to look at him as she spoke. "I'm  
walking."  
  
"I said walk with me, not tear through the halls like a meteor shower." He laughed softly in effort to  
convey that the words were meant as a joke, but the cold gaze Beka shot him over her shoulder silenced  
the laughter almost as soon as it had begin.  
  
"You need to calm down," he tried instead, fairly certain he'd already tried the calm down approach  
several times already. Much to his surprise, Beka stopped and pivoted back to him, waiting for him to  
catch up.  
  
*At least we're making progress,* he thought.  
  
"Being calm is not going to get my ship back!" she snapped as she fell into step beside him, all the better  
to loudly berate him. "You're busy being calm and trying to get me to be calm and in the meantime, my  
ships being torn to space junk by ubers! Yeah, the whole being calm thing's getting a lot accomplished,  
don'cha think? Me--oh, thank you for asking, Captain Hunt--I think we need to be a lot less calm."  
  
Dylan sighed his frustration, vaguely aware that the twists and turns they were taking were leading down a  
familiar route. "I think the biggest part of the reason I'm being so calm is because I still don't have the  
slightest idea of what's going on," he said. "I'm relieved to have you back, especially since I've spent the  
past day-and-a-half looking for you in more than one system and in the aftermath of a nova."  
  
"Well, obviously I'm fine."   
  
They came to a stop at the end of the hall, Beka defiantly lacing her arms across her chest and assuming a  
hostile, cocky stance. Dylan stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out to explain to her that even  
though she had known she was fine, he most certainly hadn't. Finally, at a loss, he turned to the door at the  
end of the corridor and gaped again, this time at the realization that they had reached his private quarters.   
At another loss, he looked back to Beka, who seemed no less surprised to find them there, but who  
nonetheless arched an eyebrow and nodded for him to open the door. Dylan did and, as he followed her  
into his quarters, finally found the explanation he had been searching for.  
  
"Remember when we were fighting the Magog worldship and I ordered you to fire the nova if we weren't  
back in three hours?"  
  
"You say that like I could ever forget." Beka settled herself on a counter-top, her mounting frustration  
leading to a string of constant fidgets.  
  
"For a few moments, you thought you'd lost us, didn't you? After that explosion, you had no way of  
knowing we'd survived. Couldn't have been easy on you."  
  
"No," she admitted, her voice crisp in determination to hold on to her hostility. "It wasn't."  
  
"And even more recently, when we spent that week looking for Tyr. You were as devastated as I was that  
we might have lost him."  
  
"Tyr was off doing Tyr things," she reminded, inner fire rekindled. "You know, those behind-our-backs  
things he does that usually wind up coming back to haunt us somewhere down the road, things like hiding  
that child he had with the wife *you* forgot to tell us he had? You never did find out for certain where he  
was all that time, so stop jumping down my throat because I was gone for a lousy day."  
  
"That has nothing to do with my point." For lack of any better options, he sat down on his bed.  
  
"Oh it does," Beka assured him, "It's just counter-productive to your point, so you're refusing to  
acknowledge it. The *point* is, we'll probably never know where Tyr disappeared to, but I will tell you  
where I disappeared to and what I was doing *just as soon as we get the Maru back*. I'm not trying to be  
mysterious secret girl, here, I just want my ship back. I don't think that's too much to ask."  
  
She hopped back off the counter and resumed pacing.  
  
"Is it too much to ask that we come up with a plan before storming the proverbial castle?" he responded.  
  
"Yes!" Beka exclaimed, spinning on her heels to face him. "Yes, Dylan, *it is!* Because by the time we  
come up with a plan, everything I nearly got killed for could be for nothing."  
  
"Beka--"  
  
"Enough with the what aren't I telling you routine!" She ran her hands through her hair in frustration.   
Dylan noticed the way her fingers curled around the roots, as though she was seriously considering  
yanking some of her blonde locks out. "Dylan, please--see this?" She clasped her hands out in front of  
her, extending them towards him despite the considerable distance between them. "This is me begging  
you to trust me. After all those times I've trusted you, this is me wanting you to return the favor one time."  
  
Dylan shook his head. She was serious. She was begging him now and would demean herself enough to  
drop to her knees if she thought she had to. For the life of him, he could not begin to fathom why, or what  
was suddenly so important to her that she was so desperate to get back. The Maru was certainly a large  
part of the equation, but there was something else. Something she had just admitted she wasn't telling him  
about. But what was on the Maru that so important and so secretive that she couldn't even name it?  
  
"Beka--" he tried again, getting up from the bed, wishing he could get more than her name in edgewise.   
The disadvantage wasn't making for a very effective argument. He started toward her, meaning to close  
some of the distance between them in the massive room. Surprisingly, Beka came forward to meet him  
halfway. Dylan started to ask her again, with far more concerned civility, what was going on, but Beka  
passed by him without a word and collapsed the bed he had just abandoned.  
  
"I know we've been over this before," she said, "but the Maru's my home. Don't get offended," she added  
as his face registered hurt against his will, "that's not what I mean to do, it really isn't. You've been good  
to me, incredible even, and I'm going to be a part of your mission until the glory of the Commonwealth is  
restored or some nova turns me to radioactive space dust. But before I had you, or your quest, or anything  
else remotely resembling an overarching mission in my life, I had the Maru. For the longest time in my  
life, the Maru was the *only* thing I had. I know she's not in the best of shape anymore, and I know she  
probably never was to begin with in your eyes, but she's mine and I love her every bit as much as you love  
the Andromeda. I can't abandon her."  
  
"Beka--"  
  
"The Dragons know they have the Maru," she continued, speaking faster, misinterpreting his interjection as  
objection. "And they know that almost every single time one of us has gotten in trouble with them, we've  
been on that ship. The Maru's one of their most wanted because they know if they have her, we'll come  
after her. That's why they're going to junk her, as a threat to make us get there that much faster. Except  
the Dragons don't make threats, Dylan, only promises."  
  
"Nothing is going to happen to the Maru," Dylan said. He pulled up a chair and sat down across from her.   
"No one is going to wreck your ship, because you're not going to let them and neither will I. But, you said  
it yourself, they're betting we're going to charge in without thinking and make ourselves as easy target.   
That's where they're wrong."  
  
Beka lowered her eyes, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and offered an almost embarrassed smile.   
"You have a plan?"  
  
"I'm working on it. I'm plan guy, right?"  
  
"Crazy plan guy," she corrected without looking up. "Crazy plan guy with crazy plans that always seem to  
work."  
  
Dylan sighed and tried again. "Will you please tell the crazy plan guy what you have hidden on your ship  
that is so important?"  
  
Beka raised here eyes again, looking at him with uncertainty. "I'd rather not. It was, well," she shrugged  
apologetically, "It was supposed to be a surprise. It seems like every time I try to surprise you with  
something, it always blows up in my face." She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself, a  
craving for Flash no doubt sweeping though her body.  
  
"You'd think I'd learn, huh?" she asked herself, the words barely audible to Dylan's ears.  
  
"What's the surprise?" he asked.   
  
Beka gasped, coming out of her private agony. She pursed her lips and diverted her gaze, lost in  
contemplation. Finally, after several moments of silent debate, she again met his eyes.  
  
"In heaven now are three," she said. Anticipation overcame her features as she awaited a response. The  
expression bordered on fear as Dylan's mind tried to recall the statement, where he'd heard it before and  
why it was so important. The search for Beka in the nova's wake had exhausted him, he realized, a  
moment before the answer came to him.  
  
"The Engine of Creation?"  
  
Beka nodded, relief overcoming her but not enough to completely ease her anxiety. "It's supposed to be  
split into five fragments, right? Well, I've been doing a bit of nosing around on the side since we found  
the first piece. I ran into this tavern owner on Nehelenia-3 a while back and he told me about this junk  
yard on Centauri where a lot of the local galaxies dump old parts, 'old' as in junk relics they can't figure  
out the purpose of. I left yesterday to look for a second fragment, swore Harper to secrecy because I didn't  
think I'd find anything and could be back before you even noticed I was gone."  
  
"But what about the nova?" He asked. His mind was refusing to compute "Engine of Creation," so he  
settled for the question that had been driving him crazy since yesterday.  
  
"That's the funny part," Beka replied, her tone conveying no humor. "There was a small Dragon air guard  
and a cruiser when I arrived, but they didn't pay me any notice. What's one more freighter dumping in a  
junk yard? I didn't have any trouble landing the Maru and getting out to have a look around. But I guess  
they'd tapped into the frequency of the relic dater I had with me, because the second it ran across a piece  
of junk that gave off the same kinds of crazy readings that the first piece did, the pilots were yelling at me  
to drop the object and give myself up."   
  
She shrugged, waited on him to say something. When he did not, she continued. "I mean, I really can't  
say for sure, but that's the best explanation I've been able to come up with. Like I said, they left me  
alone--some freighter trying to make a quick buck off their refuse--right up until I found an anomaly.   
Maybe they were looking for it, too, I don't know. But this little piece that I found predated known time  
and weighed a lot more than what I should have been able to carry--try a galaxy and a half. That's when  
the Dragons started with the threats."  
  
"They probably had tapped into the frequency, then," Dylan said, because she was again waiting on him to  
say something and he honestly had nothing useful to contribute. He wanted to hear the rest of the story,  
not trade banter. "That makes sense."  
  
"Only if they'd been looking for the fragment, too and hadn't had any luck," Beka agreed. "Maybe they  
were packing up to go home when they saw me run across something unusual. I don't know. All I know is  
that I grabbed this piece and started running like crazy for the Maru. They were firing non-stop before I'd  
gone ten steps, and a second ship was aiming at the Maru, trying to decommission it and strand me. I  
don't even know how I managed to lift off under all the fire, but as soon as I did, they started with the  
heavy artillery. I'd just lost them long enough to open a slip route when they fired the nova. I  
slipstreamed just at is detonated, some of the blast actually followed me into the slipstream."  
  
Which went a long way toward explaining why Dylan had found his own slips around the area so difficult.   
Rommie had probably picked up remnants of the blast during their slip to Sarentia.  
  
"When I existed in Sarentia, the Dragons shot cables into the Maru and dragged me to a stop before they  
could blast me to death. I didn't have any choice but to give myself up." She spoke the words with  
extreme reluctance and self-hatred, a captain who had broken the rules out of necessity and abandoned her  
sinking ship. "I killed all the Maru's power and hid the fragment in the operating system for the thrusters.   
I figured they wouldn't start breaking the engines down until after they'd torn every other part of the ship  
apart, so, well, in case we don't get back in time to save the Maru, at least we can save the fragment."  
  
"You're certain that this 'spare part' is one of the five fragments?" He didn't know why he was asking.   
Beka had already told him her readings indicated the object in question pre-dated known time and had a  
weight equal to half that of the other fragment, which had weighed an impossible three galaxies. What  
else could it possibly be?  
  
"Pretty certain," she replied, a bit mockingly, smiling slightly to convey that no harm was meant. "So,  
now that you know, can we get my ship back now?"  
  
"Plan," he reminded.  
  
"Right," Beka agreed, and they fell into contemplative silence. Dylan couldn't hold a thought together  
long enough to begin to formulate a plan. Every time he got as far as *what we need to do is . . .*, his  
thoughts derailed against his will and returned to three words. Engine of Creation. They had one  
fragment safely stored aboard the Andromeda. Now, Beka had found and retrieved a second piece of the  
machine that could create, destroy and change the course of everything anyone had ever known. With a  
machine like that, they could finally destroy the Magog worldship. They could restore the Systems  
Commonwealth. More than that.  
  
They could go back and prevent the Fall.  
  
"Dylan?" Beka asked, her voice soft.  
  
"What?" It was his turn to snap out of a complete daze, one he felt incredibly guilty for having been  
caught in. "I'm trying, Beka, I really am. It's just really hard to hold a thought right now."  
  
"That wasn't what I was going to say." Whatever fear and anger she'd harbored against him and the world  
in general had disappeared completely. She looked, all and all, incredibly vulnerable.  
  
"Oh," he said, deciding that she looked beautiful in that vulnerability. "Sorry."  
  
"No," she said, cutting him off before he could say anything else. "Look, I'm um, I'm really sorry I yelled  
at you and everything."  
  
"Don't worry about it." He didn't know what else to say. Her anger was perfectly justifiable, he knew that  
now. And he was too busy trying not to remember that he was in love with her.  
  
"And that slapping you thing? Sorry about that, too." She offered a small shrug, regarding him with a  
blend of anxiety and apology. "Really sorry about that part. I usually don't go around belting people  
unless they're trying to kill me or something, and you're one of very few people that I know who hasn't  
tried to do that yet."  
  
"It's okay." Still not sure what else to say. He was usually so good with the perfect one-liner to diffuse  
any situation, but the last thing he felt like was being witty. Being a romantic fool, yes, but not a witty,  
romantic fool.  
  
Beka laughed, her laughter rooted in nervousness. "I would ask if you're always this forgiving, but I've  
been with you long enough to know you are."  
  
"Captain Terrific," he reminded with an anxious smile of his own. Every instinct in his body screamed  
that now was the perfect time to tell her about his newfound feelings. He was under the distinct  
impression that she felt the same way. But as hard as he tried, he could not open his mouth to say  
anything. Silence fell between them.  
  
She laughed again, much more softly, as their knees brushed. "So, about this plan of yours?"  
  
"Working on it," he reminded, grateful that something both coherent and relevant had come out.  
  
Beka fought to suppress a smile as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in her  
hands. Their faces were entirely too close for his comfort. Dylan had never wanted to kiss anyone more  
in his life, and in that moment, it would have been very easy to kiss her. Despite the almost overwhelming  
urge to do so, the only thing he could do was return the scheming grin that overcame Beka's face, his own  
smile undoubtedly laced with far more goofy stupidity.  
  
"We *do* have a Dragon slipfighter," Beka reminded, as though the knowledge had only just resurfaced.  
  
"We do," he agreed.  
  
"Even though they're built for a crew of one, I don't think we'd have any trouble smuggling another person  
or two on board."  
  
"Wouldn't we?"  
  
"Nope," she said, quite decisively. "And I also don't think the Nietzscheans know that craft's pilot is tied  
up, gagged and unconscious."  
  
"You took down a Nietzschean?" He asked in amazement, any magical moment between them officially  
broken. He wasn't sure why he found the thought so surprising. Beka had more than enough strength, will  
and determination to take on the Nietzscheans without the aid of their usual High Guard weaponry.  
  
She shrugged as though the event was nothing out of the ordinary. Much to Dylan's disappointment, she  
leaned away from him and moved to a half-reclining pose on his bed. Her new pose was infinitely more  
sexy, but he had been enjoying their closeness.   
  
"How the hell do you think I got the crap beaten out of me? A Dragon lieutenant boarded the Maru and  
took me hostage after I agreed to surrender. So I repaid the favor by taking control of her ship after mine  
was impounded on one of their carriers."  
  
"Impressive," Dylan said, truly admiring her. For more than her survival abilities.  
  
Beka grinned. "Those Nietzschean women are bred for strength and cunning, you know. While I have  
both strength and cunning, they haven't exactly been running though my veins for a copula hundred years.   
Impressive, indeed, Captain Hunt." She sprung up from her spot, nearly startling him into falling  
backwards off his chair.  
  
"Can we *please* get my ship back now?"  
  
__________________________________________________________________  
  
Six Chapters down. Four to go. 


	7. Chapter Seven: Brave and Crazy

EASE MY MIND  
Chapter Seven: Brave and Crazy  
  
  
  
Dylan returned to the deck, trailed by Beka, to find the rest of his small crew waiting for them. Waiting to  
see how badly their argument had gone, he figured. Harper had set himself down in the middle of the  
floor and Tyr was milling around the controls trying to look like he was doing something important.   
Rommie stood at casual attention, regarding them with a raised eyebrow and a trace of a smirk as they  
entered.  
  
"Beka!" Even Trance was waiting for them. She bounded across the deck with a youthfulness he had not  
seen from her since she was still purple. Her arms thrown open wide in delight, she practically engulfed  
Beka in a welcoming hug. Despite being caught off guard by the strength of the embrace, Beka smiled as  
she was reunited with her friend. The smile turned to shrill, startled laughter as Trance lifted her from the  
floor and spun her half-way around.  
  
"It's so good to have you back," Trance said once Beka was safely on the floor. "We were worried we  
weren't going to see you again."  
  
"I keep getting that," Beka responded. "Hey, you know me, I can get out of anything, right? I'm fine."  
  
"Be careful," Harper warned, looking at Trance and throwing a nod in Beka's direction. "That's what she  
told Dylan right before she jumped down his throat for trying to help."  
  
Beka turned her attention to the engineer, her expression shocked. Harper had always been one not to  
think about what he was saying, but he usually wasn't so directly insulting. "We didn't make that big of a  
scene, did we?"  
  
"No," Harper answered, fidgeting with his normal pent-up energy. "Mostly it was just you making a scene  
and Dylan trying not to get you to make one. But no, it wasn't *that* big." He spoke the final words in  
the sense that the universe wasn't *that* big, either.  
  
"Sorry," Beka responded immediately. "Really sorry about that, everybody. I was, you know, kind of  
freaked." She turned to Dylan, nodding anxiously in his direction. She was on edge, primed and ready for  
battle. One hand rested on the force lance she had retrieved from the weapons locker. Both she and Dylan  
had armed themselves with an array of personal weapons.  
  
"Charging into the fabled apocalypse?" Tyr asked cynically, unable to mask his appreciation for whatever  
gutsy and equally suicidal plan they had come up with.  
  
"Not without back-up." Dylan paused a moment to pretend to ignore the skeptical expression. "Beka and  
I are taking the Dragon slipfighter and going after the Maru."  
  
Complete astonishment overcame Rommie's face as Dylan spoke. "Dylan, are you sure that's--"  
  
"Perfectly feasible," he interjected, keeping his tone soft to assure her. "According to Beka, the Dragons  
aren't aware that the fighter was hijacked."  
  
"But they had to have seen it follow us into slipstream."  
  
"They saw their pilot give chase," Beka agreed. "She radioed in to say she was pursuing in hope that she  
could figure out what we were up to. What her Dragon commanders didn't see was me standing right off  
screen with a high-powered blaster pointed at her head." She shrugged. "They ordered her to turn back  
but I made certain she refused, so they'll be waiting for her to come back if for no other reason than to bust  
her out of the ranks, if not out of existence. We won't have any problem getting on the cruiser."  
  
Tyr scoffed. "You think the two of you can sneak undetected onto a Drago-Kazov cruiser?"  
  
"Stranger things have happened," Dylan responded with an equal amount of severity in his voice.  
  
"You're mad, Captain Hunt."  
  
Rommie pursed her lips in a moment of silent debate. "Dylan, I'm inclined to agree. I understand Beka's  
desire to get the Maru back safely but--"  
  
"The Maru is the least of his worries," Beka interjected. "To be completely honest, it's not at the top of my  
list, either." She drew a blaster and armed it. "Tell them what to do and let's get out of here."  
  
"You mean like orders?" Harper asked, practically gulping the last word. He straightened himself,  
pretended to regain his reserve. "We're helping you do whatever this crazy thing is you're doing?"  
  
"Why am I not surprised?" From Tyr. Of course.  
  
"You're in command until I return," Dylan told him, beginning to grow as annoyed as Beka had already  
become with the questions that kept coming before either of them could get a word in. "As I've already  
said, Beka and I are taking the slipfighter and using it to gain access the carrier, where we're going to find  
the Maru."  
  
"I thought you said the Maru was the least of your worries," Trance interrupted, her eyes shifting  
suspiciously between Dylan and Beka.  
  
"It is," Beka agreed, almost too quickly. "But what *does* matter in on the Maru and it's a really long  
story so everybody let Dylan explain the plan and we'll explain everything else when we get back."  
  
"*If* you return," Tyr corrected. "What you're proposing is suicide, and I strongly recommend you  
reconsider."  
  
"Recommendation acknowledged and rejected," Beka snapped back, her anxiety beginning to seep  
through again. She was one more comment away from some serious, frustrated pacing. "Dylan, can you  
hurry up and explain things so we get outta here?"  
  
*I'm trying,* he almost said, but that would do them no good, either. Everyone was far too close to  
plummeting over the emotional edge. He'd been going crazy since Beka's disappearing act, but was only  
not beginning to realize what he had already suspected--that he wasn't the only one who had suffered.   
Everyone, including the great, uncaring Tyr Anasazi, was grateful to have her back aboard and relatively  
unharmed. They did not want to see her dive head-first into another set of impossible odds, this time  
dragging their captain with her.  
  
"Tyr," Dylan said, his voice full of the kind of High Guard authority that demanded no further  
interruption, "you are to give Beka and I a half an hour to reach Sarentia and make contact with you. If  
even one second past that half an hour elapses without contact from either myself of Beka, you are to  
return to Sarentia and open fire without mercy. Is that understood?"  
  
"Captain, we're critically low on ammunition of all forms," Rommie interrupted before Tyr could offer a  
response.  
  
"Then you'll just have to make a little go a long way." The comment was directed at Tyr, whose jaw had  
hardened into that stubborn, defiant look Dylan had come to associate with the desire for an argument. He  
was in no mood for one. He was the captain on this ship, for crying out loud, and he was sick and tired of  
having Tyr second-guessing his every move. "If you receive confirmation that Beka and I are dead, or if  
the Andromeda is in a position to be seriously compromised or destroyed, retreat. Don't even think about  
playing the hero. Don't forget, we have a mission more important than any of us."  
  
"The reunification of a fallen Commonwealth?" Tyr responded in an almost mocking tone.  
  
"Precisely." And deadly serious.  
  
"You really think you can take on the Drago-Kazov and win?" There was genuine fear behind Harper's  
typically near-manic voice.  
  
"We already have," Beka answered, "back when we were stranded on that ice planet with those killer  
worms. We outsmarted them then, we can do it again."  
  
"Una salus victus," Dylan added, his icy tone directed at Tyr. Again, the Nietzschean looked as though he  
wanted to say something equally cold or mocking in response. Much to Dylan's surprise, he merely  
nodded understanding.  
  
"Please be careful," Rommie said, because someone had to say it.  
  
"You should listen to her," Trance agreed. "I don't know what you're really going after, if it isn't the Maru,  
but I don't have a good feeling about this."  
  
Beka shrugged, trying to look unconcerned. "Yeah, well, you've been wrong before."  
  
"I've also been right before." Her tone was far too ominous.  
  
"Let's go!" Beka grabbed Dylan by the shoulder and propelled him towards the corridor before any of  
them could dwell for too long on Trance's last words. The girl was downright unsettling sometimes when  
it came to her ability to predict outcomes and she had been too right about too many things in the past.   
Beka hoped this wasn't one of those times. She stole a look at Dylan as they picked up their pace. He was  
hoping this wasn't one of those times as well.  
  
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Dylan asked once they were safely out of earshot of everyone else.  
  
"Could you live with yourself if part of the Engine of Creation fell into the hands of the Drago-Kazov?"  
Beka countered, shooting him a knowing look.  
  
"Good point."  
  
"Damn good point," she agreed. "So let's go get our fragment back and stop with the worst-case scenarios.   
Everybody back there already covered most of them. Don't you go second-guessing yourself, too."  
  
He wasn't second-guessing himself, not exactly. He was having some serious doubts about what they were  
preparing to do, but he was still optimistic that they would succeed. Their plan was foolhardy at best and  
relied entirely too much on chance, but they were necessary risks, and risks he was willing to take. The  
Drago-Kazov were a formidable opponent, but one he had faced many times in the past. He was certainly  
more familiar with the Dragon methods of dealing with problems than he'd been with the Shinta duels to  
the death he and Beka had faced to recover the first fragment. But he was not arrogant enough to think  
that just because they'd faced the Dragons several times before that they would be victorious in their quest.   
On the contrary, he hoped they were taking every available precaution, because sooner or later fate would  
have to kick in and allow the Nietzscheans a victory.  
  
He could only hope that fate would be kind to them this one more time. He could not bear to think about  
what a race as hell-bent on galactic domination as the Drago-Kazov would do with the ultimate weapon of  
destruction should they fail.   
  
-----------------------------------------------------------  
  
I feel a pressing need to apologize for this chapter being so short, even though it's one of the longest of the  
story. I hate writing action sequences (my main works are spy thrillers, so go figure), and always feel like  
I'm short-changing the reader when I write them. So, if anything's lacking, sorry.  
  
And just so you know, the epilogue has been **COMPLETED**. The end is definitely on its way.  
There's still two more chapters to go before we get there, though. Stay tuned. 


	8. Chapter Eight: Lock and Load

EASE MY MIND  
Chapter Eight: Lock and Load  
  
  
  
It had been a long time since Dylan had had an opportunity to examine a Dragon slipfighter up close. What never failed to amaze him was how small they were. Beka had landed the craft in the Maru's usual hanger and Dylan was surprise by the enormous amount of space that was still available on the landing deck. The Drago-Kazov were master engineers and their fighters were among the fastest and most deadly in the known worlds. That had been three hundred years ago. He had no doubt that they had since improved their technology.  
  
"What do you think Rev would think of this whole Engine of Creation thing?" Beka asked. The question surprised him. Since he'd left the Andromeda, the crew seldom spoke of the kind-hearted Magog.   
  
"I don't know," Dylan admitted. "I suppose he'd caution us against trying to meddle with the will of the Divine."  
  
"Unless it's the Divine's will for us to reunite the fragments." She sighed. "I've never been a very spiritual person, but I think we could all use some guidance right now."  
  
"I think you're right."  
  
"This is the most important thing I've ever been a part of," Beka continued as though he had never spoken. "I can't help but feeling like the whole universe is our responsibility, now more than ever. I mean, this is so much bigger than reuniting the Commonwealth. If we find these fragments, if we can repair the Engine and make it work--" She trailed off, her arms spread wide as though to encompass all of the stars. "It's too big to think about, and I can't help but worry we're going to screw it up somehow."  
  
"We won't," he assured her, even though he'd been having a lot of the same thoughts himself. Restoring the Commonwealth had been more than a goal. For the longest time after he'd been pulled from a black hole to find himself three hundred years in the future his only reason for living had been to find a way to get back to get back to the time that had left him behind or, knowing he couldn't reverse the course of time, to bring that way of life to these mostly lawless times. When he'd placed his hand on the first fragment of the Engine of Creation, he'd wished for a restored Commonwealth, for unity and prosperity and peace. But not for himself or his own peace of mind or personal glory, but for the better was of life it would bring to all those who inhabited the known worlds. If they found the remaining fragments, if they could somehow bring the Engine back to life, they could bend the universe to their will. Tyr had once accused him of trying to do this, but Tyr could never fully understand. He wasn't trying to bend the universe to his will, only to make it a better place for all of those who lived there. If it meant reuniting the Commonwealth or trying to wield the power of the Engine, he would do whatever he had to.  
  
"Second Lieutenant Mobia Cha-Ming," Beka said, drawing him away from his thoughts. Dylan came back to the present in time to watch her press the button to lower the small craft's entrance ramp.  
  
"I'm sorry. What?"  
  
"You are so not listening to me," she responded in that tone that told him she was starting to wonder if he was really up for what they were about to do. "The pilot, the one I have tied up and gagged in here? Her name is Mobia Cha-Ming."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Beka rolled her eyes and let out a slightly annoyed sigh as she started up the ramp. "Just thought you'd want to know," she said over her shoulder. "You usually want to know things like that."  
  
Second Lieutenant Cha-Ming, who was indeed bound and gagged, was a young woman with pixie-cut hair the color of black oil and eyes of equal darkness and intensity that seethed hatred. From the looks of her, she couldn't have been flying for more than a few months. He smiled to himself, remembering his last encounter with a newly-minted pilot. He'd lost touch with Molly after she'd been accepted into the academy, something he deeply regretted. He'd though he'd never be able to truly fall in love again after he'd lost Sarah and had never been more grateful to be proven wrong in his life. He told himself he'd contact her if they made it through the impending encounter with a Dragon cruiser alive. One look at Beka, as she nodded for him to arm his force lance, told him Molly was getting along fine without him.  
  
"Here's the deal." Beka crouched down in front of their hostage and prepared to free the binds. "I'm only going to say this once, so listen up. We're going to let you go and you're going to fly us back to whatever carrier my ship's being held hostage on. If you do that without alerting any of your trigger-happy friends that we're on board, we're gonna let you go an everything's going to be just fine. If you decide to tip the higher-ups off that you're not alone, my friend here's going to deliver to you a nice level-four force lance blast. Those can be pretty messy, so why don't we all play nice?"  
  
She undid the gag so that the Nietzschean could reply. Immediately, Beka swore and scampered backwards as the younger hostage tried to bite off her fingers.  
  
"That is *not* what I call playing nice," Beka snapped as she inspected her hand for damage.  
  
"If I cooperate with you, my commander will have me executed for treason," Cha-Ming spat back, her defiant eyes moving from Beka to Dylan. "You must be Hunt."  
  
"Must be," Dylan agreed, keeping his voice congenial and the force lance trained on her.  
  
The Nietzschean scoffed at him as though were the lowest form of life and spat in his direction.  
  
"You understand how I got the crap beaten out of me now?" Beka deadpanned as she climbed back to her feet. The sudden brightness that sparked in her eyes told Dylan she had an idea. "Wait here. We might not need her after all."  
  
Before he could ask where she was going or why they wouldn't need the only access they had to the carrier, Beka bounded back off the craft, shouting at Andromeda to have Harper meet her in his quarters ASAP. Dylan was left to try to avoid eye contact with Cha-Ming and wonder what final card Beka had up her sleeve. He also hoped Rommie acknowledged the order, as he had forgotten to reinstate Beka's authorization. If not and she had to track Harper down the long way then retrieve whatever it was she needed, he was in for quite a wait.  
  
"You're never going to get away with this," Cha-Ming said. Her voice, Dylan decided, had to be spiteful even on a good day.  
  
"People keep telling me that," he replied, still polite, still staring out the ship's open entrance and wondering where Beka had taken off to.  
  
"My superiors will arrest you the moment you set foot one of our ships. For defying them in the past, you'll be subjected to the worst kind of torture before you're executed."  
  
"Heard that too." He hadn't, he realized, which surprised him enough to almost make him laugh.  
  
"Open a direct-line to Captain Rhylar!"  
  
Dylan winced at the order, knowing that if it was obeyed by the ship's automated response system, they were dead before they even started. Andromeda's internal defenses were still down following their last battle, and those defenses included an automatic scrambler on all unauthorized communications. He let out a truly relieved breath when the small craft failed to respond. Ever vigilant, Beka had cut the communication system, probably immediately following her on-board communiqué with him. He took a moment to slip back out of the craft, and ordered Rommie to reinstate Beka's authorization.   
  
With a defeated, hatred-filled scowl, Cha-Ming again resigned herself to her binds. Dylan could feel her dark eyes fixed on him, no doubt envisioning him dying a thousand different deaths. He avoided her stare, instead focusing on every detail of the craft's systems, committing them to memory. He could think of nothing worse than being stuck in the craft in a life-or-death situation and fumbling for the controls of whatever emergency system they needed. Time slowed to an awkward crawl, made more tense by Cha-Ming's unwavering stare. Whatever Beka had suddenly decided she needed, he wished she'd hurry up and find it.  
  
He snapped his attention to the lowered entrance ramp the moment he heard her footfalls in the hanger deck. A moment later, she came jogging up it, some form of portable scanning device in her hand.   
  
"Bless you, Harper, you mad genius, you" she was saying as he came to a halt. Dylan heard the small power surge as she switched the device on.  
  
"What is that thing?" he asked as Beka used whatever the thing was to scan Cha-Ming's face.  
  
"Harper concocted it a while back," she answered, pausing to search her mind as she debated which buttons to push. "When we had to handle the diplomacy of signing that charter world without you. Their leader insisted he wouldn't sign until he could talk to you personally, so we had to invent you, or at least a computerized version of you. Almost worked, too."  
  
"Harper did what?"  
  
"It's complicated, but, hey, they signed--no thanks to you--so what does it matter?" The complicated part, at least, was made evident as she slowly connected the device to the ship's communication system. Dylan's astonishment registered visibly as an image of an unbound Cha-Ming appeared on screen. She raised one arm, then another, looked left and right. It took Dylan a moment to realize that the image of the Nietzschean was mimicking Beka's actions.  
  
"Cool, huh?" Both she and the Nietzschean hologram asked.  
  
"Very," Dylan agreed. Only Harper could come up with something so ingenious. He was sure they'd be able to find more uses for such a program in the future.  
  
Beka tightened the gag back around Cha-Ming's mouth then started for the pilot's chair, hesitating just before she settled herself into it. "Do you want the honors?"  
  
"By all means. You *are* the better slip pilot."   
  
Beka beamed and practically threw herself into the seat, immediately working on reconnecting the wires to the communication system. As she strapped herself in and fired the engines, Dylan settled himself into a secure-enough looking nook as far away from Cha-Ming as he could get. He returned his force lance to its holster, but made certain not to let his hand wander too far away from the weapon. The lieutenant would raise more than a little hell if she were to somehow free herself.  
  
"Andromeda, this is Captain Valentine. We're ready for departure."  
  
"Aye, aye, Captain," Rommie responded immediately. "Good luck and be careful. Opening launch doors."  
  
Beka expertly glided the slipfighter out of the hanger, leaving Dylan amazed by her expertise behind the controls as the craft quickly accelerated to full speed. Beka was one of the best pilots he had ever encountered because she could instantly adapt to whatever kind of craft she had been asked to fly. When she piloted the Andromeda, it was like she had spent her entire career with the giant warship. She now guided the much smaller and more sensitive Nietzschean fighter with the same finesse. Though he knew he could have managed the controls on his own, Beka was doing an infinitely better job than he ever could have.   
  
One more reason why he was in love with her.  
  
"Slipsteaming," she called to Dylan, opening a portal almost before she had finished speaking. He braced himself for the rush and the jolt, only to find himself surprised by how smoothly the Dragon craft navigated the often-rough Slipstream. The Nietzscheans had definitely improved their technology. The Andromeda was still an amazing craft, even three hundred years after its initial launch, but he wondered if he would ever be able to Slipstream in her again without wondering how Harper could improve their time spent in transition.  
  
"Here we go," he heard Beka mutter. He saw her tense as they prepared for their exit. If the Dragons even suspected that something was amiss, they would open fire on them the moment they left the Slipstream and ask questions if anyone was left alive in the rubble. Considering the amount of fire-power they would be facing both from a small army of slipfighters and the larger cruiser, the likelihood of surviving the attack was non-existent.  
  
They exited the Slipsteam and found themselves immediately flying into a squadron of fighters. Dylan became aware the every muscle in his body had gone rigid as he waited for them to start firing, and could not bring himself to relax even as they wove their way through the swarm and closer and closer to the cruiser. He could see the same tension and worry mirrored in Beka's eyes as she slowed the craft down from full-throttle.   
  
"Ready?" She turned quickly in her seat to address him. Dylan merely nodded, feeling a tightness in his throat as Beka hailed the carrier. He then turned his attention to Cha-Ming, who was struggling in vain against her bonds and trying futilely to shout.  
  
"Report!"  
  
She did not hold his attention for long. On screen was a man Dylan could only assume was the Captain Rhylar she had mentioned earlier. Decked out in full Nietzschean combat gear and armed to the teeth, his appearance made Dylan's breath hitch in his already tight throat.   
  
"Lieutenant Mobia Cha-Ming reporting to Command," Beka said, speaking with authority, her words coming out in Cha-Ming's voice through her on-screen image. "I have news of the location of the Andromeda Ascendant. Request permission to come aboard and deliver this information personally."  
  
Beka made absolutely certain to keep her features frozen as she awaited a reply. Dylan could tell she was fighting the urge to do something to ease the tension like start drumming her hands or release a sigh of pent-up adrenaline.  
  
It took Rhylar a moment to respond. Dylan did not like the suspicion lurking in the captain's close-set eyes. Rhylar was a hardened veteran, the ill-healed scar that sliced the right side of his face told him as much. The long, dark beard that covered much of his face was not enough to hide the scar that had no doubt nearly ended the captain's life. He regarded the image of Cha-Ming on his screen as though he could almost see through it to Beka in the pilot's chair.  
  
"Landing authorization codes, Lieutenant," he ordered, his voice deep, graveled and not to be reckoned with.  
  
*Damn it,* Dylan thought. They had hastily planned for several different worse-case scenarios. This wasn't one of them.  
  
"Seven-one-nine break delta-strike alpha," Beka responded immediately. Had the move not been repeated on the holograph, Dylan had the feeling she would have thrown him a wink.  
  
Rhylar nodded with each syllable, but the suspicion in his expression did not listen. "Permission granted, Lieutenant. Proceed to landing bay 37."  
  
"Order acknowledged. Any word on the kluge who escaped the Maru?" Beka as Cha-Ming asked.  
  
"We'll discuss it upon your landing. Rhylar out." The screen went blank. Beka continued to regard it with a stern face, in case he should remember one last message. After a moment during which neither of them breathed, she turned to Dylan and grinned broadly.  
  
"We're in."  
  
Dylan was grinning as well, unable to believe their luck. "How did you know the landing code?"  
  
She shrugged as though what she had done was nothing special. Her smile widened. "I made sure to get them out of her before I tied her up."  
  
"What now?" he asked. "How do we know where they took the Maru?" Another of those important pieces of information they were unfortunately lacking.  
  
Beka seemed as lost as he did in that respect. "Well," she said, pausing to think, "right now I'm really hoping it's parked somewhere between landing bay one and thirty-six." As she decelerated for the landing approach, she finally began drumming her hands impatiently on the controls.  
  
"Forget this," she said, and slammed the engines back into full-speed.  
  
"What in the hell are you doing?" Dylan leapt to his feet, only to bang his head on the craft's low ceiling half-way up. Somewhere through the fog in his head, he thought he heard Beka say:  
  
"A fly-by. I'm finding my ship before I even thing about setting us down."  
  
"You're what?" He rubbed the back of his head, wishing the ache would hurry up and subside.  
  
"At least that way we'll know how far to run and in what direction."  
  
Dylan was thrown forward and nearly into a second near-concussion as Beka sharply banked the craft to fly closer to the landing docks. He tired to watch as they buzzed the decks, but there were too many crafts, and though most of them were Dragon fighters of varying classes, a great many were salvaged and stolen freighters that all looked like the Maru through his blurred vision.  
  
"Got her!" Beka shouted and pulled the slipfighter into a very hard hard-180.  
  
"Warn me before you do that!" By now, Dylan was clinging to the back of her seat for what was left of his life, staring out at the rapidly changing scenery, trying to anticipate her next move. Beka at least had the advantage of knowing what ace-pilot stunt she was going to do next.   
  
"Lieutenant Cha-Ming!"  
  
Beka swore as Rhylar's face reappeared on the screen. Dylan did not need to see the dark fire in those small eyes of the hardening of an already stern face which made that scar stand out even more to know that the captain was furious. Beka did not respond to him, though she did risk a quick glance at Harper's device to make certain it was still active.  
  
"Lieutenant Cha-Ming, you are authorized for landing bay 37 only! Proceed there immediately."  
  
"Sorry sir!" Beka as Cha-Ming shouted back, jerking on the controls and throwing the craft into a series of swerves Dylan felt confident would end in a crash. "I'm having problems with the engines and need to make an emergency landing."  
  
"Lieutenant, you are in a restricted area! I don't care if you have to crash that craft, you are not to land until you reach your designated area!"  
  
"You're breaking up!" Beka cut the comm channel before he could argue. "Dylan, I'm going to set us down as close to the Maru as I can. You'd better brace for a hard landing that might include hitting a few things, then get ready to run like hell."  
  
Dylan lowered himself to his knees and tightened his grip on the seat, watching as the landing strip came nearer and nearer with alarming speed. The landing threw him forward and, despite the way he clung to the back of Beka's chair, he still busted his lip as his chin connected solidly with the seat. Beka pulled back hard on the craft's emergency landing breaks but she had deliberately set them down too hard and fast to prevent an uncontrollable slide. The more carnage between them and the heavily-armed Nietzscheans that would be chasing after them, the better their chances of making it to the Maru and making a getaway before anyone could retaliate. All they would have to do was get far enough away from the patrols to open a slip portal and they were home free.  
  
She calculated perfectly. Despite the state of their quickly disintegrating craft, it came to rest only meters behind the Maru's rear thrusters. Beka threw off the safety belts and grabbed Dylan, who was still recovering from the landing.  
  
"Run!" She shouted at him, practically propelling him out of the massive hole in the ship that made for a faster exit. As she pushed him ahead of her, she grabbed her blaster gun and stole a quick look at Cha-Ming. The Nietzschean lieutenant was unconscious and bleeding from the forehead and far too close to the worst of the wreckage, but she looked as though she'd survive.   
  
As they broke for the Maru as fast as they could run, a warning siren pierced the whole of the enormous carrier followed by a call to arms.   
  
"That means not much time!" she called to Dylan. She risked a glance behind her, toward the carrier's quarters. Armed Dragon guards were already rushing after them. She tired to pick up her pace even though her legs could not possibly carry her any faster.  
  
"They've got it secured," Dylan shouted back at her. Beka swore when she saw that the Nietzscheans had secured the Maru to the carrier with an automated system. Dylan swore as well, wishing for the good old days of heavy chains that could be blasted through. Freeing the Maru would mean storming command and there was no way they would survive being so greatly outnumbered. Their only hope was that Tyr's grudge against the Drago-Kazov would prompt him to act rashly and before the thirty-minute deadline.  
  
"Fragment first!" Beka ordered, throwing herself against the manual override to open the cargo doors. They wrenched open with a loud, painful squeak, lowering entirely too slowly considering the masses rushing them. By the time Dylan and Beka could squeeze inside, the advancing Dragons had nearly cleared the wreckage and cut the distance between them in half. They ran the length of the Maru's cargo hold as though their lives depended on their speed. Because they did.  
  
Dylan watched as Beka half-dropped and half-slid to a crouch and began wrenching the protective plate to the thrusters' controlling system free with her bare hands before she had come to a complete stop. The cover came free with remarkable ease and she threw it aside, nearly slicing Dylan's leg with the metal in the process. Almost immediately, and even though her back was to him, he sensed that something was wrong. Beka froze. He froze with her  
  
"No!" She exclaimed, making herself get moving again. "No!" Her long fingers ran over the various visible components of the mechanics. Dylan leaned closer over her shoulder as she reached in and felt blindly around.  
  
"What is it?" He asked, already knowing the answer.  
  
Beka drew her arm out from the thrusters, her skin covered almost to the elbows in grease. She fell back on her knees and looked up at him, defeat spread across every feature of her beautiful face.  
  
"It's gone."  
________________________________________________________________  
I feel a pressing need to apologize for this chapter being so short, even though it's the longest of the story. I hate writing action sequences (my main works are spy thrillers, so go figure), and always feel like I'm short-changing the reader when I write them. So, if anything's lacking, sorry.  
  
And just so you know, the epilogue has been **COMPLETED**. The end is definitely on its way. There's still one more chapter to go before we get there, though. Stay tuned. 


	9. Chapter Nine: Gravity of the Situation

EASE MY MIND  
Chapter Nine: Gravity of the Situation  
  
  
  
"Have you lost something, Captain Hunt?"  
  
Both Dylan and Beka turned at the sound of the unexpected voice. Each reached instinctively for their primary weapon, and each froze before they could draw it. Rhylar stood at base of the lowered cargo ramp, weapon trained on Dylan, who posed the closest and thereby most immediate threat. Behind him, a well-armed squad of Drago-Kazov ensured that both Dylan and Beka were properly covered. Among them, Lt. Mobia Cha-Ming, bruised, bloodied and ready to shoot regardless of whether or not she was ordered to.  
  
"Damn it," Dylan swore. He had been so utterly focused on Beka and her frantic search for the fragment that he had never heard the approaching footsteps, not even at the dead run they had to have advanced with. He cursed himself again for allowing himself to so easily drop his guard, making a mistake not even the most junior of High Guard trainees would have made.  
  
"No," Beka said, returning to her feet, somehow managing to sound incredibly aloof despite ominous warning sounds of the weapons arming. "See, you've got my ship tied up without my authorization, and I was trying to max out the thrusters to break your binds."  
  
"Sarcasm has never appealed to me. Miss Valentine, I presume?" Rhylar tracked her every twitch through his weapon's sights.  
  
"*Captain* Valentine," Beka corrected, thickening her cockiness. "Hey, I'm just doing my job, here by trying to escape, same as you're doing yours with the whole pointing guns at us thing. Surely, you can respect that?"  
  
"That's enough," Dylan softly warned as Rhylar barked words to the same effect.  
  
"So what do we do?" Beka risked a glance over her shoulder at the mechanics of the thrusters, as though the fragment would materialize from the air around them. "Just let them take us hostage?"  
  
Dylan nodded to the blasters aimed at them. "For now, that's exactly what we do." He arched an eyebrow and nodded to the ground. *And let them take us to where we can access the controls to release the Maru.* Beka regarded him in skeptical confusion for a moment. As she turned her attention back to the Nietzscheans who held them at gun-point, he detected the slightest nod of understanding. He could tell by her scowl that she did not approve, but there was no other option. He would just have to hope that Tyr jumped the gun after all, because he doubted seriously that they would survive whatever time was left of the half-hour deadline.  
  
"Secure them!" Rhylar ordered. A quartet of soldiers rushed forward, cuffing their wrists behind their back before strapping on a pair of leg irons that would make any attempt at a hasty retreat all but impossible.  
  
"These are new," Dylan observed as they were ordered by one of the quartet to march off the ship, only to have Rhylar ordered them stopped as they exited the Maru. Dylan feared the worst, that they would be executed on the spot, but Rhylar merely disarmed them of their obvious weapons, then ordered them patted down for others. The Nietzschean performing the frisk stopped short of his High-Guard boots, which had been specially designed to hide a force lance. He almost laughed outright at the oversight, but had sense enough to keep his face set. After three hundred years, he'd have thought they'd be onto the trick by now. Then again, he seriously doubted that the Dragons had encountered very many High Guard officers since the fall of the Commonwealth, and it wasn't like the bonds had left him with easy access to the weapon. It would take quite a feat of acrobatic maneuvering to reach it. As he pondered how he could do just that when the moment presented itself, he and Beka were ordered to proceed back in the direction of the Command Center. They were forced to take the lead, all the better for the others to shoot them if they tried to escape.  
  
"They're called Pulsars," Beka said, jerking her head to indicate his cuffs. "The latest in Dragon technology. If you try to slip out of them or open the lock without the correct key, they shock you so hard that sometimes, they pretty much kill you."  
  
Dylan winced, but something conniving and familiar in Beka's eyes told him that there *was* a way to escape that she wasn't telling him about. She wouldn't dare risk telling him, either, not with Rhylar and his squadron trailing so close behind.  
  
He spent the rest of the march back to the command tower admiring Beka's handiwork. The way she had crash-landed the slipfighter was nothing less than a work of art, ensuring that most of the fighters in the immediate area had either been rendered unable to fly by direct damage or unable to take off because of the debris trail across the deck. The Maru, however, had suffered no such damage or restrictions. The only thing preventing her from flying to freedom were the security bonds, which they would hopefully be able to deactivate once they were inside.  
  
Dylan had known that they would more than likely not be lucky enough to be taken onto the main control deck. Still, he could not help but feel an extreme disappointment as he and Beka were led to a private interrogation room. Rhylar ordered the squad dispersed to aid with the clean-up as a pair of guards shoved the duo into hard seats.   
  
"Oh my--" Beka shut her mouth abruptly, stifling the rest of her breathed comment. She glanced quickly to see if Rhylar, who was posting guards outside of their room, had heard the declaration. Dylan looked too, decided he hadn't, and set to finding out what had left her so stunned. He found it on the middle of the table between them. A very old-looking part of a piece of machinery. Again, he checked to make sure Rhylar's back was still turned and nodded to it. Beka nodded back.  
  
"So you've seen it, then?" The sounds of Rhylar's boots on the hard floor echoed even the small room. He was eyeing the fragment, a curious, almost dementedly delighted expression on his face.  
  
"Of course I've seen it!" Beka snapped before Dylan could come up with a feasible story. "The question is, why are you yanking the parts out of my thrusters? I thought you Dragons had enough power and influence to not have to go stripping freighters for spare parts."  
  
"Do you think I am that easily fooled?"  
  
"Who's fooling you?" Beka shot back. "I've repaired every nut and bolt on my ship at some point or another. Believe me, I'd know if anything weird showed up."  
  
"Our preliminary analyses indicate that this isn't some run-of-the mill object, as you are so determined to have me believe, Miss Valentine."  
  
Beka merely shrugged. "So I revved her up a little. You have to if you want to survive these days. What's it to you?"  
  
Rhylar leaned forward over the table, his face coming dangerously close to Beka's unwavering eyes. "The Engine of Creation. You've heard of it?"  
  
Dylan felt his breath catch and wondered if Beka's did the same. She merely stared at him for a moment, then laughed outright. The blatant defiance made Rhylar recoil. He raised his hand to her, but did not strike. Dylan clenched his fists. The Dragon captain would pay for that one.  
  
"You want me to believe that my reverse valve is part of a mythology thousands of years *dead*?" Beka exclaimed, making the question sound as though it was truly the most ludicrous she had ever heard. "You're a *Nietzschean*! I didn't think you guys bought into things like that."  
  
"We didn't," Rhylar said, "until our analyses could calculate neither the age nor the weight of this component. Tell me where the other fragments are, and I'll consider granting you a merciful death."  
  
Beka laughed again, more outraged than before. "Other fragments? Look, unless some repairman three galaxies back broke down this Engine thing and implanted it in the Maru for spare parts, I have no idea what you're talking about. From where I'm sitting, you're starting to sound just a little bit nuts."  
  
This time, Rhylar did not halt nor pull his strike. His fist cracked across Beka's jaw, sending her sideways out of her chair and sprawling onto the floor. Blood flowed from her mouth as she struggled to fight back, only to cry out in agony as the Pulsars delivered a shocking burst through her entire body. Still on the floor, she curled up in pain.  
  
*That's it,* was the last thing Dylan remembered thinking. Restraints be damned, he leaned back, pulled his feet up as close as he could bring them and just managed to get his fingers around the grip of the force lance. He jerked the weapon free and threw himself out of his chair, twisting his body as he fell so that he could fire a shot at Rhylar. The Dragon captain was thrown backwards against the nearest wall by the force of the blast before collapsing into a lifeless heap. At the sound of the shot, the pair of guards posted outside burst through the doors. Dylan had to roll out of the way of their fire. He was not fast enough. One of the blasts sliced through his leg, drawing blood and an incredible rush of pain. He forced it aside and managed to aim up at one of the guards. He fired, but not before the other one had trained his weapon on him.  
  
A crashing across the room diverted the remaining Dragon's fire. Beka had slammed her feet into her chair with all her strength, sending it sliding across the small room with a great amount of noise. Dylan took advantage of the distraction and took down the third guard.  
  
"Reverse the charge on the force lance," Beka shouted at him before he could ask if she was okay. She maneuvered so that her back was to him and had extended her arms as far from her body as possible. "It'll short-circuit the cuffs."  
  
*It could also kill you,* Dylan thought, fumbling for the control switch to reverse the polarity and turn the power to its lowest setting. Footsteps approaching at a dead run pushed aside any thoughts of scrambling for Rhylar's body and hoping to find the deactivation switch. He craned his head to see Beka over his shoulder and prayed that his aim was as good backwards and restrained as it was on a normal day. He could not stop himself from closing his eyes as he fired. He heard the bonds splinter, followed by Beka's swearing.   
  
By the time he opened his eyes to see how badly he'd hurt her, she was springing to her feet, only to dive for one of the guards. He was, Dylan noticed as he wondered what she was doing, one of the members of the squad who had disarmed him. With her free hands, she searched him until she came across the one of the force lances that was programmed for her usage. She reversed the charge quickly and blasted herself free of her leg irons.  
  
"Hurts like hell," she warned, taking aim at him. She fired, twice in quick succession. Her warning about the pain could not have been more accurate, but Dylan found himself climbing to his feet a moment later.  
  
"Where's Harper when you need him?" Beka was muttering to no one in particular. Dylan wondered why she would want Harper in a situation as potentially deadly as their was until he realized that the engineer could probably come up with some long-distance way to releasing the Dragon's hold on the Maru. Where *was* Harper when they needed him?  
  
"Now what?" She asked as the approaching Dragon footsteps loomed closer to their position. She had already grabbed the fragment from the table and was awaiting their next move.  
  
They didn't have time to wonder. The entire cruiser seemed to rock beneath their feet, accompanied by the sound of a thousand cannons unleashed. The Drago-Kazov were under attack on their home territory. Dylan almost laughed with delight. There was only one place that kind of fire-power could have come from, and its timing could not have been more perfect.  
  
"Tyr!" Beka exclaimed, throwing her arms open to the sky in gratitude. She followed Dylan's lead by restoring her force lance to its regular setting, then took off after him down the hall, blasting the advancing and all-too-close Nietzscheans who opened fire on them as well. They ran blindly and for their lives, Dylan scanning every corridor they zipped past for any signs of where the mechanism might be to release the Maru. Though they had missed the force lance in his boot, the Nietzscheans were smart enough not to label their important areas.  
  
"We're going to have to figure out how to free the Maru ourselves," he shouted over his shoulder to Beka. They would absolutely be killed if they did anything other than bolt back onto the landing dock, where they could take cover amid the debris as they made their way back to the Maru. And hope the Tyr and Rommie would take out the opposition without accidentally taking them out as well.  
  
Rommie must have had a sure lock on both the Maru and their ever-changing position, because her fire tore through the hangar deck as they ran, the deadly close-range weapons always a safe distance behind them. Despite the fact that every Nietzschean on the carrier wanted them dead, they reached the safety of the Maru without further incident of injury.  
  
"Captains Hunt and Valentine!" Tyr's sharp voice was already paging them through the comm link as they boarded. Beka reached the control panel first and returned the link, slamming her open hand down on the button with so much force that Dylan was surprised it did not break.  
  
"How did you find us?" Her voice was filled with disbelief, but Dylan doubted she had ever been so grateful to see Tyr in her life.  
  
The Kodiak's face appeared on screen. He was smiling. "Tell Captain Hunt that those tracking nanobots he implanted on us work both ways."  
  
"Nano--" Though she had found about the tracking devices the hard way--during their battle against the Magog worldship--Beka still had a tendency to forget that they could be tracked. Judging from Dylan's reaction to her disappearance, she had a feeling he'd forgotten as well.  
  
"Eureka Maru, you are cleared for take-off." Tyr was obviously enjoying his new position as the Andromeda's acting captain.  
  
"I can't take off!" Beka shouted into the comm link. "They've got us locked down! We have to find the release!"   
  
"Actually, a manual over-ride will be much faster."  
  
"Tyr, there is no manual over-ride. We have to go back!" She started to bolt off the ship to do just that, but Tyr's next words stopped her in her tracks.  
  
"I have a faster solution."  
  
"Hold on to something!" Dylan shouted across the small deck. "He's going to shoot the bonds off!"  
  
"He's--" Beka's eyes widened in panic and fury as she turned from the comm screen to Dylan and quickly back again. "Anasazi, I mean it, if you bust up my ship--"  
  
She did not have time to finish. The Andromeda appeared from beneath the decks, its colossal form hovering in front of them as Tyr zeroed in the proximity weapons.  
  
"He's really gonna do it!" Beka exclaimed, the words barely having time to escape her lips before the Andromeda opened fire. Dylan closed his eyes as he tried to cement himself in place, feeling every shot that pelted the binds and rocked the Maru to the point of shaking him from his foundation. He could hear Beka shouting, swearing more than likely, but he couldn't make out the specifics of her words over the almost deafening noise. She was probably shouting about the landing gear being decimated, which was precisely what he was worried about, provided the ricochets didn't literally blow the floor out from under them. This was the stupidest idea he'd ever heard of.  
  
The rapid fire ceased and Dylan opened his eyes in time to watch his ship fire her reverse thrusters. As the Andromeda began to move slowly away from the cruiser, the force of the thrusters slid the Maru backwards from its hangar, almost into the remains of Beka's crashed slipfighter.  
  
"At least we're free," Beka said, already running emergency diagnostics, "and I can't believe I get to say this, but nothing important is broken. We'll probably have to replace a few parts once we're on the Andromeda, but everything's in working order for now."  
  
That was when Dylan remembered that the stupidest ideas had a tendency to work.  
  
"Strap yourself in," Beka said, settling into the pilot's chair. "Let's fire this baby up and get out of here before they figured out what happened and start giving chase."  
  
It was the best suggestion Dylan had heard in a long time, and he was more than happy to oblige.  
___________________________________________________________________________  
Ah, yes, happy endings all around, in true Andromeda fasion. But what of Dylan's newfound and as-yet undeclared affections for Beka? One more to go and it's already been written. It will be here soon, as long as the server stays up. Promise. 


	10. Epilogue: Some Kind of Beautiful

EASE MY MIND  
Epilogue: Some Kind of Beautiful  
  
  
  
In the end, the true reason for their foolhardy mission into the heart of the Dragon fleet remained their little secret. Dylan hated keeping the secret as much as Beka did, but in the end, as they returned to the safety of the Andromeda, they decided it was for the best. It wasn't a matter of trust. They had survived almost two years together and more apparent betrayals than any of them could ever hope to count. At some point or another, they'd all been guilty. For those reasons, more than any others, they had learned to trust one another, to trust that no matter what outward appearances may project, they were all on the same side in the end.  
  
The decision was a matter of necessity, not trust. The more people who knew that the Engine was more than a rumor and that two parts of it had been reunited, the more danger they were in. Their lives were in a constant state of peril, new missions took them to unexplored and dangerous parts of the universe. They could be captured and tortured, and in the end, one of them might break. The less people who knew, the less chance there was of that happening. The first priority was keeping the Engine safe. Repairing broken trust would have to come later. Much later, Dylan hoped.  
  
They made up a story about rare cargo Beka had salvaged from Centauri, explained its absence by saying that the Dragons had beat them to it after they'd captured the Maru. No one believed them, not fully. After a while, they stopped asking questions. Dylan secured the fragment with its mate in one of Andromeda's most highly guarded storage areas, one where security ensured that even Rommie herself was blind to its contents.  
  
They didn't tell Trance, either. That was probably the hardest part of all. Trance had been a vital part of the recovering of the first fragment.   
  
They had saved the proverbial day. Their mission was accomplished and everyone had survived safe and secure. A new day would come, possibly bringing with it a chance at a third fragment. But Dylan did not rest easy in the days following their return. There was still one very important issue left unresolved.  
  
--~~oo(0)oo~~-- --~~oo(0)oo~~-- --~~oo(0)oo~~--  
  
"You wanted to see me?" Beka asked. Her voice and her sudden appearance in his quarters surprised Dylan, despite the fact that he had, indeed, had Rommie remove her from her duties and ask her to join him. The document he had been drafting with the old-fashioned assistance of a pen and paper, nearly flew from his desk as she startled him.  
  
"I did," he agreed, but couldn't find the words to say anything else. He was too afraid he'd start babbling like an idiot and not be able to stop himself, and that was definitely not how he wanted this to happen.  
  
"So," Beka shrugged, coming into further the room, "what's up?"  
  
"Nothing." He didn't say anything else for a moment because he knew he'd start stammering the moment he tried. He settled for looking up at every beautiful part of her and wondering how he'd ever convinced himself that now was the right time to tell her he had fallen insanely in love with her.   
  
"Feeling better?" He indicated the fading bruise on her cheek, the one put there by Rhylar's assault. Beka nodded, reflexively touching the injury as she did so. She tried to hide the wince, but Dylan saw it all too clearly.  
  
"Mostly I've still got a really bad headache," Beka told him with a light shrug.  
  
"I should have done something before he--"  
  
"Like you knew what he was going to do. Stop beating yourself up over it. If nothing else, it got us out of there faster." Another shrug. "We survived. Look happy."  
  
Dylan tried to, but couldn't, not with the images of Rhylar's assault replaying themselves in his head. Why hadn't he acted faster, done something before Beka could suffer the consequences?  
  
"What?" Beka asked, a hint of uneasiness in her voice. "Dylan, you're staring at me like you've never seen me before."  
  
He hadn't, not really, not until he had seen her face on board the stolen Dragon fighter after he'd spent an miniature eternity fearing her dead. He'd seen her before that, plenty of times, too many to possibly keep track of, but never as he saw her now. She's always been Beka. Who would always come through in a pinch. A fighter. A comrade-in-arms with quick reflexes and an even quicker wit. She'd always been Beka, one of the guys. Never Beka, the woman.  
  
"What?" Beka asked a third time, an almost annoyed exasperation in her voice despite the inquiry in her expression. "Dylan, I hate to be rude, but I really do have things to do. Whatever it is, just spit it out. You know me well enough to know there's nothing in the universe that could freak me out."  
  
Except, possibly, for the one thing he was about to say.  
  
"I--"   
  
What was it with the lack of words? He'd been educated at one of the best universities in the known worlds and he couldn't even string three monosyllabic words together.  
  
"You?" Beka prompted.  
  
"Oh, the hell with it," Dylan heard himself say. He closed the gap between him and caught her by the arms, pulling her into a kiss. Beka's body went rigid, but her lips melted into his. She returned the passion, but only for a moment, until her mouth caught up with the rest of her body's reaction.  
  
"Woah!" She slipped out of his embrace, her flushed expression somewhere between outraged, amused and amazed. She was laughing, mostly in disbelief. "What the hell was that?"  
  
"What?" He asked, again at an almost utter loss for words, this time for an entirely different reason. This was not the response he'd expected, the mutual declaration he'd built himself up for.  
  
Beka was staring at him as though he'd grown a third arm and wings. "That--" At a loss for words herself, she pointed rapidly back and forth between them. "That thing you just did. That with the lips and the-- What was that?"  
  
"It's a kiss," he heard himself say. "Surely, you've had one before." He fought the urge to smack himself. Could he have said anything more stupid or less appropriate?  
  
"Of course." Awkwardly, Beka planted her hands on her hips and nodded. "It's just, you know, you, and me and, yeah. No exactly what I was expecting there."  
  
"I'm sorry," Dylan said. He didn't know what else to say. "I--," he turned, looking for an out. "I'm pretty sure I have things to do."  
  
"You probably do."  
  
He couldn't make himself move. "See you."  
  
Neither could Beka. "Yeah."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Don't worry about it."  
  
He couldn't possibly undo the last two minutes of his life. He also knew he couldn't do anything that would remotely diffuse the tension that hung between them. He'd just thrown any chance they had of maintaining their friendship out the cargo doors. Things had officially gotten weird. With an utterly defeated sigh, he turned to go.  
  
"Although I'll tell you one thing."  
  
Dylan turned back, half-dreading to hear what that one thing might be. Despite Beka's awkward but beaming smile, he could not disguise his apprehension.   
  
"What?" he asked uneasily. He'd already ruined everything that had ever been or could ever be between them. Why press the issue?  
  
Beka's smile widened. She laughed softly. "If that's the kind of welcome home I get, I think I'm gonna go missing a lot more often."   
  
"Promise?" he asked.  
  
The full smile softened to a wicked grin. "Oh, yeah."  
  
Still laughing, she caught up to him, clapping his back as she turned him and propelled him out the doorway. Her hand slipped around his waist as they walked and Dylan, by now grinning himself, draped an arm across her shoulders.  
  
They walked like that the rest of the way to the command deck.  
  
=================================================  
The end.  
APM  
  
Ladies and gentlemen, my first-ever fan fiction.  
  
Possible sequel. I have a few ideas. And there are three fragments left. Let me know what you think of this one first. Love reviews. Love e-mail. 


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